You Can Be the Heart That I Spill on the Pages
by bulletproofsince1999
Summary: This is my first Greaser!lock and I'm really nervous about the whole thing, but I feel like I can do this! But basically, John's the new nerdy kid and Sherlock's a bad ass, but an arse. If you like it, R&R. I appreciate any feedback! By the way, rated M for future content containing bad language, bullying, drugs, self harm, and sex... I'm messed up, but just read!
1. Who's This?

**Author's Note: Like I said, this is my first Greaser!lock type thing, and I don't know if it'll work. So, read and enjoy, and R&amp;R. Hopefully? Please? Haha.. And yes, this is based on a song... The italics are a basic summary as well as lyrics... Don't judge.. anyway, R&amp;R. Enjoy! :-) **

* * *

You Can Be the Heart That I Spill On the Pages

_You can be the butterflies I feel in my belly_

One: Who's This?

"Whoa, sorry, I didn't see you… I…" the blond gazed upon the boy staring down at him. He pushed his glasses up to see correctly and to make sure his beauty wasn't just something he wanted to see. No, it was there. The high cheekbones were caressed by soft and dark curls that lead down to his brows that matched the darkest of browns.

Then there were his eyes, dear lord they seemed to be piercing the very recesses of the boy's soul as the brunette stared down at him. John took in the rest of the skinny boy, eyeing his blank black tank and the leather jacket that topped it.

Then on to the jeans the tank was tucked into as they were a bit tight and hugged his waist so well he didn't even need a belt as the blond's gaze went down to the brunette's shoes. They were a slightly worn out shade of red Converse that made him look questioningly back up to the boy's eyes.

The blond gulped as the brunette studies him back. His sea green/ blue (and somehow grey mixed in there, too) eyes took in the sandy short hair and the nerdy medium sized round frames that were about the boy's nose. Then to the eyes beneath and the deep denim blue that made Sherlock stare for a moment longer.

Then it was down to the sandy jumper that was styled over the plaid button down that was neatly tucked into the belted jeans that didn't like staying up otherwise. Then down to his worn out shoes, and Sherlock wondered why he was wearing Vans, but they did look older than his Converse. _Ah, birthday present that his mum tried. Well, if he was dressed better they'd look accordingly._

But this boy was a mix and match of many things that the brunette wanted to know more about. But this boy was a bit skittish, as he raised a hand, the other pushing up his glasses again. "I'm John, John Watson. Sorry for running into you like that. my brain doesn't seem to like me this morning. But," he swallowed and risked, "what's your name?"

The brunette took John's small hand, and somehow it fit perfectly folded around his own. It was a bit strange as he said, "Holmes. Sherlock Holmes. And might I ask, where _is_ your head?" he almost scolded as John flinched from the flick Sherlock put to his nose. _A bit socially awkward, aren't we all? _

"I have no idea, honestly," he almost stuttered but Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Well, it was nice meeting you, Sherlock," he waved as the bell rang for first period.

"Wait," Sherlock pushed John to the lockers, "you're new here, aren't you?" he asked, looking John up and down again as John's bag slumped from his shoulder to the floor.

"Y-yes," he stuttered, "w-why?" he asked, curious, but afraid of this bad ass looking boy holding him by the shoulders to a locker. And attractive, so his breath was hot on john's face and he was blushing like crazy as he stared at that perfect cupid's bow. He licked his own lips in hesitation before looking back to Sherlock's waiting eyes.

"Well, just don't run into me again, or it might get bloody, you hear?" John nodded and pushed his glasses back up his nose as Sherlock let go. "Get to class you bloody moron," Sherlock insulted as John plucked his bag from the floor and practically ran to get to class. _Is he straight?... _

Sherlock walked leisurely as if he had all the time in the world, and honestly, it didn't matter if he was late. He already knew half the material being taught. He was always bored, though he gets straight As. He shrugged as he actually wasn't late. But right after he had taken his seat, the bell rang to assure him that a second more and he would have been late.

Sherlock sat in the same boring class as everyone else brought out a notebook, he just sat there. The teacher said they didn't need to be taught the rules of the school over again, and they could just skip ahead to the material. Boring… "Aren't you going to take notes?" someone nudged Sherlock. He hummed in confusion as he looked to her.

"What? No, I already know half the crap he's about to teach," he gestured towards the teacher and she smiled.

"Okay then. Don't fall too behind," she said to him and he nodded. And not five minutes passed before she had to ask, "So, what's your name? Mine's Molly, Molly Hooper," she said shyly.

"Hi Molly," he said, irritated that she bothered him even more. "If you must know, I'm Sherlock Holmes. Bugger off please," he added as the teacher started eying them for whispering in class.

"Sherlock Holmes," she gasped in disbelief. "You mean, 'The One Who Can Tell You Life Story By Just Looking At You,'? That Sherlock Holmes? Wow," her eyes sparkled and Sherlock scooted a bit away from her.

"Well, not your life story, but-" he was cut off by slight squealing.

"Deduce me, Mr. Holmes!" she whispered gleefully.

Sherlock sighed, what else did he have to do? "Well, Molly Hooper, you're breakfast this morning consisted of eggs, sausage and oatmeal," he tilted his head a bit, "accompanied by a glass of orange juice. Your mum yelled at you for spilling some of it on your shirt and you simply pushed it off. She's trying to quit smoking, so she's a bit cranky. Also, you were late this morning as you usually aren't."

His eyes narrowed at her and hers widened as he spilled more, "You want to be a scientist when you're older, a pathologist to be specific. Because it's what your father was," and he finished with a simple and easy one, "and you have a crush on that boy over there," he pointed and she looked, blushing.

"That last part was a bit over the top, but it was all true. Ah! You're amazing!" she glowed and he simply rose a brow at her and she giggled, blushing harder as she turned to the teacher again. The rest of the class was silent, and Sherlock was grateful of that.

o0o

Then the bell rang and Molly had slipped something in the pocket of Sherlock's jacket. "If you ever get lonely," she winked and walked away as Sherlock dug in his pocket. Her phone number, of course. He shoved it back in as he simply put his hands in his pockets and walked to his next boring as hell class.

But that was when he almost bumped into John, again. "Hey, I thought I told you to watch it!" he warned again and John shivered at that tone of voice.

"I'm sorry," he shouted back, pushing up his glasses, taking one good look around, and deciding this was his next class as he slipped inside. Sherlock was shocked, this was his class next, too. He shrugged it off as he followed the nerdy kid into biology.

They sat down and settled as the bell rang three minutes after the class had begun, this teacher liked being early, and now, so did the students of her class. If they finished early enough, they got to talk for the rest of the period. She was going to be cool. This was Sherlock's first year with her, And John's of course.

And it just so happened that the only seat left was the one to Sherlock's right side. He sighed as John slid nervously in and glanced at Sherlock. "I don't bite, not unless you want me to," he smirked and John blushed at that. _Not completely straight, as I suspected from the get- go… _"Having fun so far?" he asked, though.

"How do you mean?" John asked back, whispering just as low.

"You're such an idiot," Sherlock shook his head slowly as he reworded the question. "How's your day so far?" he asked.

"Oh," John blushed a bit more of embarrassment, "It's fine, you?" and Sherlock was shocked.

No one had ever asked about him before. "I-I'm good. Yeah, fine," he nodded and John smiled as Sherlock looked anywhere but John's eyes behind those geeky glasses. But he finally gave in as John smiled wider, his thin lips looking so pleased that he was able to catch Sherlock off guard.

And then the teacher went on about something about being in pairs. "Wanna be my partner, Sherlock?" John asked as everyone stood from their seats and formed a circle in the front of the room.

"Sure, whatever," he sighed as he sat beside John. The teacher explained the event, and how they were going to introduce themselves individually to the whole class, since it was the first day of school and they had many new students.

Then they were going to turn to their partners and tell them more about themselves. Afterwards, as an exercise of their listening skills, they'd tell the rest of the class what they know about that person. "There won't be any lessons today, just getting to know each other first, as there will be many group projects." At that, Sherlock groaned but John poked his side.

"Hush," as they began and again, Sherlock was shocked still. John just poked him, in the side, _his _**plushy** side. _His_ side, **dammit,** John Watson. _Why do you have to be too adorable for me to punch? Wait, adorable? Surely I didn't just think that… Oh, but I did… fuck… _


	2. The Most Awkward of Things

Chapter Two: The Most Awkward of Things

_You can be the chills that I feel on our first date_

The last bell rang through the school as John and Sherlock walked out of their last class. They had their second, third and last periods together, and decided that John should stick to Sherlock so he doesn't get trampled. Sherlock had no idea why he felt the need to protect John, he just did.

So he grabbed the geek by his arm and drug him through the crowd as he said, "Forget the bus, I can drive you home," he said as John's eyes widened and he turned a deep scarlet.

"I don't want to be a bother," he said and gave his glasses a shove up his nose. Sherlock shook his head and rolled his eyes

"If you were a bother I would have thrown your number away along with Molly's." John gave him his number, yes, but he didn't expect Sherlock to use it, let alone keep it. So when Sherlock said that, he was overwhelmed with joy that he had actually made a friend today.

"So, um, you'll drive me home, then?" John had to be sure this wasn't just Sherlock playing around, as he has been known to be gullible and people take advantage of John easily that way.

"Yes, John, let's go," he gestured at the car in front of them.

"Wait, this is yours?!" he fingered the hood as his fingertips took in the creamy light blue of the car, almost like Sherlock's eyes.

"Well, it was my brother's but he doesn't use it, and I'm of age to drive. And surprisingly, I have a driver's license. So you're fine," he shrugged as John looked to him curiously. He had taken one good look at him this morning and thought he was a dickhead, but now didn't know what to think.

He walked to the passenger side of the lovely beauty he couldn't believe he was touching, and opened the door with ease. He loved the sound of the leather seat as he slid in and squished his things to his feet. He felt over the seat with his fingertips, pulling the door closed as Sherlock was smirking at him. He noticed Sherlock staring from the corner of his eyes and pushed his glasses back up nervously.

He pulled the belt over his shoulders as he wished there was a roof on the car, but sadly, there wasn't. It was probably going to get cold, and hopefully not so fast. Anyway, he looked to Sherlock, "You're sure I'm not-" and he was cut off by the roar and the purr following, of the engine under the hood he had nervously felt earlier.

He giggled a bit as Sherlock said, "Do shut up, and just tell me where you live," he demanded.

He smirked and pushed his glasses up once more, "You know, out of context, that sounds really creepy," but he did tell Sherlock the address at which him and his family stayed. And once he got a gust of never-ending wind, he couldn't stop smiling all the way home. He was sitting in the car of a friend, letting the wind almost rip the frames from his face, and here he thought he'd have the worst first day of his life.

Although, it did help that his sister had moved out recently. She said she was going to college, and she was going to clean herself up to get good grades and become an actress. John thought that was a bit farfetched, but no one stopped her from trying to fulfill her dream. And that was when they stopped, John was a bit light headed, but he fixed that by shaking it off, and pushing his glasses up, again. He grabbed his things from the floor and met Sherlock outside of his flat.

"Thanks, mate," he seemed confused as to why he had just called Sherlock 'mate', but he extended a hand anyway. And when Sherlock was about to take his gesture, he changed his mind and decided. _Screw it… _He pulled Sherlock's arm as he embraced the brunette who was taken aback by this action. "Thank you, Sherlock," he whispered as Sherlock nodded.

He patted John's back awkwardly, "Okay, yeah, you're very welcome. Now go do your homework or something, nerd," he joked as John smiled.

"You, too, Sherlock," he pretended to scold. "See you tomorrow," he waved a bit and was off up the stone stairs and eventually the carpeted ones of his flat. But Sherlock stayed a bit, leaning against his car's hood. He simply leaned against the blue, his legs crossed as he dug in his pocket for his pack of cigarettes.

He finally found it, and plucked one, (not the lucky one, that one's last), from the package. He lit it as he slid the pack in his jacket pocket to keep better track of them. He also put his lighter in there, to make sure no one could steal his Zippo without him knowing. He loved his lighter and he'd hate to part with it.

And as he puffed in lung-full after lung-full of poison, he watched the ground beneath him and wondered about this Watson kid. Was he worth hanging around? What would Victor think? What would Mycroft say? What would his parents say? Then again, did he really care?

Then the cold and the night started to seep over Sherlock, and he decided against staying out all night as he finished off the cig in his mouth. He crushed the butt under his shoe and slipped back in his lovely Mustang, not even opening the door, just jumping over the side. Waste of time, if he says so himself.

And the engine purred to life as did his grin, and he finally drove from here, to his own home…

* * *

John did do his homework, but not because Sherlock had told him to. But because he had to. He had little of it anyway, it was mostly things his parents had to sign. It was awkward asking, because he doesn't really depend on them for much anymore. He even went job searching the day after they got here to London. Of course, he hasn't found anything yet, but he wants to.

All of this and that could wait until tomorrow, as it's late and John's tired from the day's efforts. He folded his glasses carefully before putting them on his bedside table and turning out his lamp's light, getting an actually really good night of sleep.

o0o

"Ugh, mum, you don't_ have_ to drive me to school," John complained as he slid in the passenger seat anyway. Her green eyes grinned at him, as well as her lips.

"But John we haven't spent enough time together lately. And I can actually drive you to school this year and perhaps every year," John groaned at the prospect, "so hush," as they both clicked the belts into place. When they retreated from the driveway, "So, how was yesterday, I never got to ask."

John blushed a bit, thinking about Sherlock. But he decided to just say that it was okay and he met some new people, also that it was nice not being a complete outcast here. "Good, that's really good, John." They stopped, "I hope you make more friends, dear. Go on," she shooed and he smiled, hugging her neck before climbing out of the car with his mum.

John walked slowly away from his mum and instantly saw Sherlock near a quite tall young man. He was going to walk over, but both of them sent him icy glares. He backed off and wondered what the hell that was about as he headed for first period. Mike caught up to him, though, and they held a conversation until the bell rang.

He'd have to ask Sherlock in second period what's up. That reminds him, did he finish, oh yes. Good he finished the homework given for Algebra 2. Okay, he was about to die for a second there. John always finishes whatever homework he's given. He wants to someday, become the greatest at what his father fought for, and still help people. That was John, vengeful, but sweet nonetheless.

And he waited patiently as the second bell of the day rang, finalizing first period. Then he waited longer for it to ring again, and he was finally in second period. He stole his seat beside Sherlock and instead of saying something, he passed a note. That way, if Sherlock didn't want to listen, fine. But if he did, he would open the note.

And to John's surprise, he did open it, and John's handwriting was neat, well planned as Sherlock read the words before him. _What was with you glaring at me like that? And who was with you? If you don't mind me asking….. _Sherlock sighed, but put the note to his desk to dig out a writing utensil.

After he had found a purple pen, he scribbled something down fast and messy, but John was still able to read it when it passed back as the bell rang again. John couldn't believe he had written so much in only a minute….

* * *

**There's a second chapter before I report to the covers... **


	3. John Watson

Three: John Watson

_You can be the peanut butter to my jelly_

The note was read as such: _Well, my brother can be very difficult, because apparently I didn't do too well last year, so he wanted to see if it was my learning environment. Brothers, eh? But I glared at you because I didn't want you to go over there and have to meet that arsehole. And he glared at you because he's well, an arse. Happy now? _

John replied with_: Damn, okay, I was just curious…_

Sherlock: _Curiosity killed the cat…._ John would have made a snarky comment, but he decided against it, as he feared Sherlock might get mean about it. He still didn't trust this boy completely. I mean, he does look like something straight from the movies, and those guys are always assholes.

So that note was the end of that before John didn't want to get in trouble, with the teacher or Sherlock. "Nerdy goody goody," Sherlock teased and he glared at Sherlock with a look that actually looked somewhat intimidating for the little nerd. When he pushed his glasses up ruined it, though.

But Sherlock simply grinned as John rolled his eyes under the blue frames. Sherlock liked the blue of them, somehow the dark blue it brought out more of the lighter ones in John's innocent eyes. _Ha! Someone innocent, around me… probly not for long… _Sherlock thought with slight regret, actually. He liked John just the way he was, and if he changed that, he'd probably hate himself. _Listen to me, I sound like a plushy idiot. Damn you, John Watson…_ sending a short and playful glare at John, but thankfully John didn't catch it.

Eventually, the bell did ring, cutting off all thoughts that had started amongst the students and the teacher in the room, then there was yet another to finalize third period. "Hey, Mike," John greeted his friend. They had officially met in fifth period, but as it turns out, he has third period with John and Sherlock, too. John didn't see him, though, because of Sherlock, which he regretted. _Yet I don't… _

"Oh, John, hey!" he was a bit chubby, but he wasn't a bad person. He actually looked like a good person, sweet and thoughtful. Even John thought he might be a good person, so John had talked to him. Mike was just a bit weird, but there really wasn't anything wrong with being a little weird. As a matter fact and importance, John liked people who weren't just normal and boring. And he discovered that Sherlock did as well, _Interesting…_

* * *

"Fucking finally," Sherlock complained as he walked out of his class and to the lunch room. "John!" he yelled when the nerd hadn't seen him, instead he was walking with this girl. _Oh well, he's mine now… well, as a friend, but yeah… Dammit, John stop making me sound creepy. _Sherlock pulled on his collar and the blond girl looked curiously to him as he pulled John from the crowd of idiots.

John scowled as he pushed his glasses up in a fury, "I was talking to her!" he pointed as the girl blushed and Sherlock smiled tightly at her and waved goodbye. She took the hint and left. "You- you, really-" And he was stopped by the most unexpected of things…

Sherlock put a hand over his mouth, "Shut. Up, Jesus. I just wanted to talk to you without her around," he shrugged. John gave him a glare with his arms crossed over his chest. "Don't give me that look, it just makes you look even more_… _nerdy, look just stop it," he ruffled the blond's hair as he grabbed his upper arm, "I'm guessing you actually eat lunch," he said as he pulled John to the cafeteria.

John sighed as he followed, and made Sherlock let go of him as he pushed his glasses up once more. "'Actually eat lunch'? As if you don't?" John asked as they were actually in the lunch room then.

"No, actually, I don't. It slows my thinking. As a matter of fact, I haven't eaten in a while," he admitted and started to think about the last time he had a meal as John stopped him from going to a table where there were others who looked somewhat like he did. The way they dressed anyway.

"When was the last time you ate, Sherlock?" he asked as Sherlock's eyes rolled up to pretend to think, dramatizing the situation even more.

"Mm… Friday? Yeah, Friday, I ate dinner, but I haven't eaten since-" and he cut himself off when John dragged him to the shortening lunch line of talking students. "What do you think you're doing?" Sherlock wrenched his hand away, but John grabbed it again.

"Friday?! Sherlock, that was almost four days ago! You're eating." He huffed and insulted, "You twit," he said and shoved Sherlock in front of him so he couldn't simply walk away again.

Sherlock turned and protested, "John, I'm quite fine, I'll just eat when I get home. Seriously," he promised and John shook his head, pushing his frames up his nose afterwards.

"Nope, move it," he pointed and Sherlock groaned. "Now," John demanded and Sherlock rolled his eyes as he turned back. John found his way to Sherlock's side while Sherlock sent him a glare that wasn't as powerful as the one from yesterday, but it still stung. "Why must you not eat, Sherlock?"

John looked slightly up at him for an answer with a raised brow that tempted Sherlock to just… but he didn't, "Because, I honestly don't like it. But now I have to," he snapped at the last two words.

John was unaffected as he nodded, "Yes, and I don't care if you punch me," he suggested and Sherlock just scoffed, and mumbled something about wanting to as he looked away.

o0o

"There, happy?" Sherlock asked as he dumped the small amount of what he didn't eat in the trash. John hummed in approval as he took his last bite of whatever he shoved in between his lips. Sherlock was actually impressed with how much the little geek could hold in his mouth. It was regrettably attractive as he downed half a hot dog in one bite. But what else was a teen supposed to think?

Sherlock had to look away to keep from blushing like a pansy. He had too many thoughts running through his head. But when he looked back, John downed the other half and Sherlock had to pretend he was coughing to hide the definite blush creeping over his cheeks. John asked if he was okay, "No, I'm not, you twatstick!" but John just laughed at that one.

"Sure, well we have to get to class now," he glanced at the watch on his wrist as he looked around the room once more before standing. "What are you blushing about?" John asked, truly curious as Sherlock glared at him. The blush was almost completely gone by now, though. And Sherlock didn't want to tell John why, but he did anyway, sorta.

"Just… thoughts, shut up," he brows furrowed in anger as John smiled. _Thoughts, huh? About a girl, I assume… haha. Guess that makes two of us, Sherlock… _

"Well, then," John smirked as they headed to their fifth period after lunch. Their classes were in the same halls as one another's, but all at different times and they almost hated it, yet it gave them a bit of space. John personally thought he was bugging Sherlock a bit too much, so he let him alone when they switched classes, too.

But any other time, he's glued to Sherlock's side, trying to keep him as a good friend. And believe it or not, John doesn't have too many friends. So, Sherlock, he was keeping. Not that Sherlock was his! Just that he wanted someone like him around.

Yes, he can definitely be an arse, but at least he listens, unlike the girls that just stare and do nothing as he explains something a bit personal. And he always knows they're not listening when they get that look on their faces. So, he decided to stick to guy friends this year, and if he liked a girl, he'd talk to her. Like Mary.

Although, with her, at the moment, it seems that she's just a good friend. She's one of the few girls John's found in his lifetime that actually cares about friendship and not just looking cute with glasses or jumpers. Though she did admit he was adorable, at that he blushed, "Thank you," he pushed his frames up.

"That's your class isn't it?" she asked. He nodded, the blush fading now. "Well, bye then, I guess," she held her arms out for a hug and at first John was a bit confused. He didn't think girls hugged just anyone. _Such a nerd… _Mary thought, smiling.

But he embraced her, and she smelled really nice. As well as her hair being amazingly beautiful even though it was short and her curves… Hey, even a nerdy boy is still a boy, and he looks. But anyway, he had to get to class now. "Bye," he waved lightly as she smiled and walked away.

He was about to scuttle into class when someone grabbed him by the collar. And this boy was a bit weird, as he was smiling warmly and had one brow perched about his forehead, "_Who_ are you?" he asked.

"Who are _you_?" John asked in return, looking him up and down. The boy chuckled…

* * *

**Who do y'all think the boy is? Review and guess if you think you're smart enough... Not that you're stupid! Just.. Oh, never mind, I set myself up for that one. Haha!**


	4. As Items Go

Four: As Items Go

_You can be as cold as the winter weather  
But I don't care as long as we're together_

He didn't even answer as he pulled John into the classroom, "You do have this class, right?" he asked and John looked him over. He was dressed very similarly to Sherlock.

Except he wasn't wearing Converse, it was Vans, obviously a newer style to the ones John was wearing. And instead of a black tank top, he actually wore a tee under his just as stylish jacket. There were straps and buckles almost everywhere about the jackeet as John eyed the writing on the back when he had turned. _Haha! Nirvana! Nice…_ John thought as the boy turned to look at him. John also noticed he had leather gloves that covered his hand to the first knuckle, then stopped. John's steady glare of observance went to his jeans, and they hugged his waist, but not as well as Sherlock's did, and he did wear a belt. I simple black one. John looked up, and he gulped when he was caught staring as the bell rang and they took their seats.

"You still didn't answer my question," John accused as he pushed the frames up the bridge of his nose and the other boy smiled lightly.

"You didn't answer mine, either," he said. John sighed as he stated his name and then he asked what the boy's was. The boy rolled his green eyes. And what a green! Somehow they had yellow mixed up in there, and they were amazing, but John didn't stare too long as he focused on the name the boy spit out. "Victor. I'm guessing you're Sherlock's friend?" he rose a brow to meet the longish hair that was a really dirt blond, even darker than John's, but still blond.

"'Friend'? I wouldn't say that, he doesn't really have friends," John repeated from the last talk Sherlock and him had had about Sherlock and 'friends'.

"Mm, quite true. I've been his only friend for a while now. And I'm glad he's opening up to someone besides me," he shrugged as they had to start whispering.

"A while?" John eyed as he pushed his blue framed glasses up again. "How long hasn't he had more than one friend?" John asked.

"Actually, I was his only friend until he met you. And don't worry, I think he considers you a friend. He may not say it, but he does. He never said it to me until… about two years into our friendship. But the bigger question is, why have I just been nice to you?" he asked. John rolled his eyes. "I'm just kidding, I'm not that bad," he tried.

"In that get-up? 'Could've fooled me," he joked and Victor laughed a little as the teacher started glaring at them through the lesson coming from their lips.

"This 'get-up' is the way I feel like dressing. If you don't like it, then go away," Victor pretended to shoo John away with his hand. It looked kinda girly and John giggled a bit.

"No, I'm good," he said. Victor smiled at that, but he didn't look to John, as the teacher was staring hardcore in their direction and it was funny. But what was more funny was the look John gave Victor when his phone vibrated and he could hear it. Apparently no one else did, but John thought it was something else.

Victor snickered under his breath as he eyed the teacher and waited for the perfect moment. And there it was, when he had turned back to the board, and Victor whipped out his mobile as John watched him text faster than he could have possibly ever.

'Surprise!' The message had been from Sherlock: **This is boring…- SH **

**Do not text me in class, Sherlock. I am not getting in trouble, AGAIN!- VT**

And Victor didn't bother with the reply after that, as he knew Sherlock would be complaining. John just smirked, but then he felt his pocket buzz and he glared at it momentarily before pulling it out, as Victor had done.

Although, it was _too cute_ to watch John push his glasses up to read the text he was given. Oh, by the way, that wasn't Victor, that was Mary. She had ended up staring as John typed something back to whomever. Surprisingly, that text was from Sherlock. **John, I'm bored…- SH**

**I'm not getting in trouble, Sherlock. Don't text me during the school day.- JW **and the only reason John read the reply was because he wanted to see just how much of 'friends' they had truly become. **Jesus, everyone is boring today…- SH**

And John wanted to tell him to shut up, but that would only get more messages, and he was _not_ getting in trouble because Sherlock was _bored_. Yeah, no. He can just stay bored at that rate. But after a few more laughs and a few more stares/winks to one another (Victor, John and Mary), the bell rang and Mary met John in the hallway. "Where did you go earlier?" John asked, as she had walked away earlier, and then she came back for that class.

"The loo, problem?" she asked as she hooked her arm into his.

He shook his head, "No, just. You're a little confusing," John smiled as she returned it. Victor rolled his eyes, what did Sherlock see in this boy? Victor could see his kindness, definitely, but his style? Hell no, his looks, no offense to John, but definitely not. Okay, he's a little cute, but really not that attractive. At least not to Victor. What was there? Victor had no idea, and he almost didn't care.

So he walked to his next class, wondering if Sherlock will still be bored with him around, or if he'll be somewhat interested this year. I say this year, because Victor had known Sherlock ever since grade school, fourth grade, in fact. Sherlock's hard to get used to, but he's quite fine once you befriend him. _Once you befriend him… otherwise, he could care less._

"Victor, you should be in a seat, not standing around looking like a complete idiot." That startled him, and Victor slid into the nearest chair and desk. "And really, what's with the thinking face? You don't usually have one," Sherlock joked loosely and Victor glared softly as he wondered why Sherlock even cared about what he was thinking about. But when he said what he had, he didn't lie.

"I was thinking about you, happy?" and Sherlock grinned. He rose a questioning brow as Victor smiled back. Victor knew what that look meant. "Not right now, you git," Victor said as the bell rang to finalize this class. Sherlock pouted a bit, but accepted Victor's answer as is and let the teacher drone on.

* * *

"What are you thinking about?" Sherlock nudged at Victor's arm as they approached that lovely shade of blue on Sherlock's car. Sherlock knew Victor had been thinking about something all day, but he didn't know what. And Sherlock Holmes hates not knowing something.

But then Sherlock spots, "John! Hey, want a ride home again? I'm off to Victor's after this anyway," he shrugged as John smiled. But he declined.

"I want to talk to Mary on the ride home, but thanks," he waved as the other hand pushed his glasses up and Mary rushed up to his side, greeting him as Sherlock had done. _Fine, I didn't want to take you for a ride, anyway… twit!_

"Oh well," Victor sighed. "Next time, I suppose?" he asked as Sherlock gave him the most confused of looks.

"Why would I care?" he asked as they both slid in, Sherlock over the door and Victor opening it like a normal person would.

"Then why'd you ask him if he wanted a ride?" Sherlock shook his head muttering his least favourite of words and Victor was a bit shocked. Last time he said that it was over homework that was irritating the fuck out of him, a year ago... "Sherlock?" as they were situated in seat belts and Sherlock's keys were in his hand.

"I don't know, okay? Just, let's … go to your place," he said, twisting the key and the engine purred to life as it always does. Victor loved the sound of Sherlock's car. It always made him think better, too. He didn't exactly know what it was about Sherlock, but all of it was attractive. He had gotten over the fact that Sherlock was another boy years ago.

Now it was just a matter of whether it was a good idea to be head over heels for Sherlock. Not because he's a boy, but because he's an ass. Victor gulped down air as it whipped his face to a steady pink and his longish hair was a mess by the time they actually got to his place.

Sherlock laughed and smoothed down his own hair as Victor did the same. "Do you ever stop looking into the mirror, Sherlock?" he joked as he shoved Sherlock's head into the mirror on the side of the car. Sherlock rubbed his forehead as he scowled at Victor.

"Yes, I do. Enough to know your parents were fighting again as well," Sherlock noted smugly and Victor frowned.

"Do you even know how to be nice?" Victor asked as Sherlock shrugged.

"Not really…"

* * *

**Another chapter... hope you liked it. **


	5. Victor Trevor

Five: Victor Trevor

_You can be the rain from the cloud when it's stormin'_

"So, how'd you know about my parents this time?" Victor questioned as they walked through the door of the little flat his parents could afford at this point in time.

"Well," Sherlock looked about as he spilled, "you're stressed, a little more so than usual, the faint smell of alcohol on you," _he was out all night, but that needn't be said_, "and you were a bit more happy to be at school than one should be, especially for you. And this time, it was a lot worse. The vase pieces were cleaned up but the water still hasn't been properly cleaned up. You tried this morning but on seeing the time gave up," he pointed to the counter of the kitchen where the vase fell from and the spot on the floor as he explained and Victor gawked. He hadn't cleaned that up, and he had meant to.

The kitchen counter he was referring to was part of a doorway that lead to the kitchen from the living room and back the hall to the right were three bedrooms, one was sometimes shared but usually his parents slept separately. "Still not cleaning that up, dad can do it." Sherlock smirked, Victor always blamed everything on his father. He was such a mummy's boy.

"Anyway, Sherlock we have homework, and I would rather get it done now than to get in trouble, once again," Victor explained and Sherlock groaned.

"That's boring, Victor," he rolled his eyes and Victor huffed.

"I know it is, but it's also even more boring to write a two page essay on why we didn't do it," Victor pointed out and Sherlock shrugged.

"True," and they were back to hall to the last room that Victor claimed as his own. It wasn't on either side of the short hall, it was on the farthest wall, in the middle of a bedroom and a bathroom. Victor plopped down on the bed as Sherlock closed the door. "I am so glad your parents work all day. Fighting isn't something I do well with. Unless I'm doing it," Sherlock explained.

"Yes, well, they don't do it all the time," Victor defended as Sherlock arched a brow. "There's those few moments when they eat breakfast with me, but…" oh no, Sherlock was nit dealing with Depressed Victor. _Not today, no thank you_.

"Okay, just shut up. Let's just get this out of the way," Sherlock dropped his bag on the bed beside Victor as it was zipped open, "so we can go do something else," he smiled and Victor rolled his eyes. Sherlock was a genius, so he found homework not worth his time, but Victor was not getting yelled at again, by his parents and his teachers. And he knew Sherlock felt the same.

They were both done with that one. So, they sat, side by side, on Victor's bed, mostly Sherlock helping Victor, but they completed their work nonetheless. An hour passed before they actually got out of the flat and down the street to their favourite burger joint.

Of course, Sherlock ate nothing, but Victor ate almost everything. "You never eat, Sherlock." Victor shoved his plate at Sherlock, "Eat something. For me, please," he begged with his voice and his eyes as Sherlock stared at him with a look that was irritated, but he ate a chip.

"Victor, you know I don't eat unless I have to," Sherlock explained as Victor worked on finishing the plate off completely.

"Yeah, well. You need more meat on your bones. You should eat more," he complained and Sherlock glared.

"Shut up, Jo- Victor. You're not my mum," he hoped Victor didn't catch the mid-name mess up Sherlock made. But he did. He eyed Sherlock, with one brow raised in question of who Sherlock was about to call him.

"Who were you about to call me?" Victor questioned as Sherlock did what Victor would have sworn was a nervous eye roll.

"No one, just shut up," he looked off to the side where he deduced the waitress bending over the table, trying to clean it further than it needs cleaning.

"Sherlock," Victor warned, just like John did when Sherlock didn't plan on eating lunch that one day John forced him to.

And Sherlock, not concentrating on this conversation here said, "Stop nagging me, John," and he finished with the waitress and went over to the old woman sitting at the table across from them. Victor choked on his second to last chip at that name.

"John, huh? That's nice," he swallowed and hung his head before he stood.

"Where are you going?" Sherlock met his gaze and instantly knew what he had done. "Victor?"

"Nope, I get it. It's fine, it's all... fine. I'm going home now," he pointed and instantly left afterwards. "I'm fine," he assured himself as the door dinged when he pushed it open and stepped outside to the chilly breeze making his cheeks pink already.

Victor shoved his hands in his jacket's pockets as he walked against the wind, home. "Victor, wait! Don't," Sherlock stumbled on the threshold of the restaurant door but managed to run after his friend. "Victor!" He grabbed the boy's shoulder, "I didn't mean to call you John. I'm sorry," but Victor only glared.

"Then why did you say his name? You know he doesn't even like you. He spends more time with Mary than either of us," Victor shouted back and Sherlock shrugged.

"I said his name because he usually is the one nagging me to eat more. But now he isn't, you are. And you never really cared that much before. And I really am sorry for calling you that stupid nerd. Victor," he grabbed at Victor's upper arm, "you are my best friend, don't leave me now," and Victor's cheeks burned. Victor always cared, he just never voiced it until now.

"I would never," he grabbed Sherlock's hand and brought him closer for an embrace. Victor wanted to stay here, in Sherlock's long and safe arms. The smell of Sherlock was intoxicating and those curls were soft against his neck and tickled his ear as Sherlock cuddled into his shoulder. Victor just wanted Sherlock, and it broke his heart to think that Sherlock wanted someone else. Which was why he didn't think about it, instead he thought of him and Sherlock, and just how good of friends they were compared to John and Sherlock being friends.

Victor didn't know if Sherlock felt anything for him, but he knew he felt something for Sherlock, and in that moment, he thought it a waste to not kiss his best friend. And when the chaste kiss was returned, Victor was overjoyed and deepened it a bit as his lips moved against Sherlock's joyfully. Victor smiled behind the kiss as they separated loudly.

"Victor," and he hummed as if to say that Sherlock should continue, but Sherlock felt he couldn't. All he could do was kiss his friend again, all the words he wanted to say in that one kiss. Victor accepted with a grin behind his lips and Sherlock hummed in contentment.

Sherlock had no idea kisses could feel so good. But he was gasping before long because breathing had been difficult for him in the first place. "Sherlock, I didn't mean to-" and he was cut off by a finger to his lips.

"I never meant for that to happen, either. And yet it did, and I would like to continue, but not in public. Want me to walk you home?" Victor was dumbfounded, but accepted as they walked back to the small flat.

But on the way, Victor laced his fingers in between Sherlock's, holding his surprisingly soft and warm hand. Sherlock jumped at first, but settled and squeezed in reassurance to both Victor and himself. Victor blushed a little as people were staring and some whispering about them. Sherlock glared at them and Victor blushed harder.

And they were finally through the door of Victor's flat as Sherlock pressed Victor to the wall. "Sh-" and he was cut off by Sherlock's mouth. He accepted and moaned into Sherlock's lips. "Sherlock," he finally gasped and Sherlock smiled.

"Yes, Victor," he said, as if Victor had a question, because he did.

"How far is this going to go? We don't even know wh-" and Sherlock cut him off again by shoving his body up against Victor's and breathing in his ear.

"This can go as far as you like, Victor, so yes, the question is, how far...?" He nibbled at Victor's ear and he whimpered.

"I-I I don't know, Sherlock," Victor stuttered. "I'm still getting used to you liking me back," he admitted. "I thought-" and he cut himself off before he said something he might regret.

"You thought?" Sherlock breathed and Victor melted, admitting that he had thought Sherlock liked John. "He's a good friend," Sherlock agreed. "But not as yummy and sweet as you are," Sherlock whispered and Victor shivered. "So, again, Victor, how far is this going to go?" he asked as he rubbed his thigh on Victor's growing arousal...

* * *

**So, hot enough? Haha! XD Anyway, reviews?**


	6. Completely and Utterly Unexpected

Six: Completely and Utterly Unexpected

"Sherlock, get up," Victor nudged his lover's arm as Sherlock grunted. Then he sighed and rolled over on top of his idiot. "Sherlock," and Sherlock hummed for more to that statement, "get the fuck up," he mumbled and Sherlock purred an incoherent response.

But he rolled over and Victor could finally hear him, "I don't want to go to school," he complained. "Besides, it's Friday, they can deal without us for a…" he sighed and yawned, "day."

"Nope," Victor grabbed him by the upper arm and pulled him to sit up, "unless you want me driving Shezza, get up," and that made Sherlock sit up straight without Victor holding him there.

"You wouldn't dare," Sherlock narrowed his eyes at his boyfriend. Victor raised a brow as if it was a challenge. Sherlock scoffed, "Fine," and he was up. Victor moved from straddling the genius so he could get up and Victor joined him in dressing for the day.

Sherlock chuckled when Victor had his back turned for putting his pants on. Victor glared at him over his shoulder, and he just pretended to look the other way as he slipped his Converse over his finally socked feet. But the constancy of flirting mood was ruined when there was shouting downstairs, and suddenly the front door slammed shut. "Way to ruin a good morning…" Victor sighed.

"By the way, where are Shezza's keys?" Sherlock asked and Victor pulled them out from under the bed and jingled them with a grin. _Wonder how they got there… _he thought 'innocently'. "Gimme," Sherlock held out his hand for Victor to place them in.

"No," Victor put them behind his back and as Sherlock advanced, he backed into the door. Sherlock reached for them, but Victor temporarily made them out of reach. "What do I get for them?" he said with a mischievous grin and Sherlock smiled back.

"Oh, we're playing that game, are we?" Sherlock's fingers gyrated around Victor's nose and suddenly his lips were placed there. And then his cheeks, and finally his lips as Sherlock's hand snaked down Victor's arm, and snatched the keys with a devious grin, "I win."

Victor pretended to pout and Sherlock just patted his head and pulled the door open, walking out to the kitchen where their homework and strays of used dishes from food was still spread about the table. But Victor had other plans, and as Sherlock started putting away their things, he was behind him, wrapping his arms around Sherlock's abdomen, and placing kisses to his neck.

Sherlock shivered, but smiled as he pressed himself back into Victor and rested his head on his lover's shoulder. Then he placed a kiss to Victor's ear and continued his original mission of getting their shit together for the school day. "You're amazing," Victor whispered as Sherlock zipped everything closed.

"So I've been told," he shrugged as he yanked his keys from Victor's fingers, "and nice try," he grinned and pecked Victor's lips before walking out the door and Victor followed. Victor muttered a 'Damn,' before climbing into the car, but on Sherlock's side. "Nope, move," Sherlock instructed.

Victor smiled, "And if I don't?" he challenged. Sherlock sighed, but a smile was plastered to his face as he slid in the seat into Victor's lap.

"And if you don't… I'll be forced to torture you relentlessly," Sherlock grinned and Victor grasped his waist.

"I doubt you could," he challenged, thinking so innocently instead of what Sherlock was thinking. For someone a bit inexperienced, he was perverted as hell.

"I never said what kind of torture," he whispered, nipping at Victor's ear and down his neck.

"Okay, I give," he didn't need an erection to deal with all day so, "I'll move," he surrendered and slid across the seats while Sherlock sat properly and closed the door. He twisted the key in the ignition and the engine gave its normal purr as Sherlock gave a satisfied hum in return. "So, what do you think John will say?" Victor asked suddenly as Sherlock's hands tightened around the wheel at that.

"I didn't realize we cared what other people said," he countered as he was finally backing out of the parking lot.

"Well, no I mean, his closest friends are dating, isn't that kind of.. awkward? He wasn't there yesterday, so he doesn't know yet, I was just wondering what he might say," Victor admitted and Sherlock pursed his lips in thought as he pulled out onto the road.

"Well," he said loudly as he sped up, "whatever he says, it doesn't change what I think," he assured and Victor smiled, looking to his boyfriend, and loving the way his curls whipped in the wind. Victor's hair was obnoxious, but Sherlock's was just gloriously gorgeous. He was so jealous, yet he wasn't.

He didn't have hair like that, but Sherlock was his, so technically he _did_ have hair like that. or something to that affect, whatever…

* * *

John walked into the school, and right there, was Mary, and he grabbed her hand. But upon doing that, he noticed Sherlock's hand in Victor's he froze. "When did that happen?" he asked, and Mary finally looked to him, blushing lightly at the look of him.

"John, you're not wearing glasses anymore," she smiled and it was John's turn to blush a little.

"Doctor says I don't need them anymore. Sometimes that happens, but seriously," he pointed to Sherlock and Victor's hands, "when?" and Mary giggled.

"They're adorable, aren't they?" she squealed as Victor blushed and Sherlock rose a questioning brow.

"I don't see the amazement, _you two_ are dating," he pointed out and Mary just started laughing.

"Yes, but you guys are adorable! We aren't, only John is," she smiled as if that was going to pass. Although, in this situation, she was just asking to be complimented.

"Oh no, you're sexy as hell, but anyway. You guys still didn't answer my first question," Mary blushed at the compliment as Victor cleared his throat and Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"For God's sake, it happened Wednesday, but we didn't officially do this," he held up their hands, "until yesterday. Happy?" and John nodded, smiling. Honestly, he didn't know what to think, his two best friends were dating, it's a little weird, but it doesn't matter much.

"Well, just a fair warning, you hurt him and I will kick your ass," he pointed at Victor and he just looked confused and a bit hurt.

"Why me?! What if it's the other way round?!" he defended.

"Then I'll kick his ass, okay? Just don't hurt each other, I don't know about John, but I am not picking sides," Mary spoke and even John was surprised. "Oh please, I could take them both down in five seconds flat, wouldn't be that hard," she grinned and John smiled, kissing her cheek.

"Sure," and the first bell rang. They all scattered as John walked Mary to her first class. But Sherlock was the one to walk Victor.

"You don't need to-" Victor started but didn't finish when Sherlock rolled his eyes and countered.

"Shut up," he said and Victor blushed when he was gently pushed to the wall beside his first class' door. He was kissed quickly and blushed as he was shoved into class. "Bye," Sherlock grinned and left him with his face flushed as the other students were staring.

Molly asked why he was blushing so hard, "Never you mind," he warned and she grinned, knowing why anyway. he smiled nervously in return as he found a seat somewhere in the middle and the bell rang again and he hoped Sherlock wasn't late. Though, knowing Sherlock, he probably was.

* * *

"I never thought those two… would…" John pondered over what he just witnessed as Mary just giggled.

"You also never thought you'd have me," she pointed out as she finally took in the look of his face without those frames blocking everything. He honestly looked a lot better, but she wasn't going to say that. Besides, she crushed on the nerdy little boy before the _sexy_ nerd she had in her hand now. "But you're just so cute, I couldn't resist," she smiled and John grinned.

"Dunno about that but I know _you're_ definitely cute," he complimented and she blushed harder as he grabbed her waist, holding her closer.

"Stop," she chuckled and playfully hit his chest and he shrugged, giving her a kiss. She smiled behind her lips and he did, too. Then they were being yelled at by her first period teacher and they both just laughed, hugging and finally but sadly departing.

"Stupid teens and kissing in the hall. I never did that (blah blah blah)," and they were both laughing as she slid into class and he walked back to his own. He shook his head in mock disbelief that he had someone so perfect, and he finally was through the door of his classroom as the bell rang again, finalizing class.

He wondered if Sherlock was late again. Probably. He also wondered if Sherlock and Victor got anywhere last night. Sherlock had said something about staying the night and at the time John didn't think anything of it, but now he was starting to wonder. Wait, Sherlock?

_What's with me? A beautiful girlfriend, him dating someone else, my other best friend, in fact and I'm thinking about him?! I need my head checked…_

* * *

**Hehe... What y'all think of that?! By the way, if you didn't catch it, Shezza is the name of Sherlock's Mustang. **


	7. A Not So Predictable Happening

Seven: A Not So Predictable Happening

_You can be as cold as the winter weather_

There they all sat: Sherlock, John, Victor, and Mary, eating. Honestly, bored now that school had been going on for two months time. Anyway, all but Sherlock were eating because they wanted or needed to. But Sherlock was getting a glare that told him if he didn't, he would be forced to. He still ate as little as possible because, after all, it slows his thinking and he hates that.

But a subject that was a little unexpected was brought to light, "We should all get together this weekend," John suggested. Everyone stared at him for an explanation. "I mean, we haven't _all_ hung out outside of school, and I don't do have anything to do all weekend, so…" and he decided to just shut up now. He glanced to Sherlock, and even the brunette was a little surprised.

"Actually, I have things over the weekend, but I'm sure Sherlock and Victor would be able to," Mary spoke, but she seemed to be getting angry about something as once again, it fell silent and Victor just stared at Sherlock. _Should we? _It seemed he was asking this aloud with his eyes. Or so Sherlock saw.

Sherlock cleared his throat, dropping the fork, _thank God_, "Well, I surely could, Victor?" as in, _Want to, or are you going to skip out, too? _Victor nodded, still stuffing his face. Sherlock knows how much Victor doesn't really like John. Sherlock has yet to find out why.

Victor swallowed, "Sure," and he was back at it again. John smiled as Sherlock was a little nervous, actually. John and Victor had hung out besides school, he was sure, but it hadn't ever been all three of them together at once, not yet at least.

Sherlock hadn't noticed when his grip on Victor's hand was a bit more tight than he needed. "Sherlock, ow. Quit it, will you?" Sherlock loosened his grip a bit, "What's wrong?" Victor turned to him and put his chin upon Sherlock's shoulder.

"Nothing, it's stupid," he admitted, because it was. What was wrong with hanging out with John again? He didn't even know, he had just been nervous, for some _odd_ reason.

"Sherlock, come on, don't give me that," Victor warned and his head dipped so he could look to Sherlock's eyes. "Tell me?" he pressed.

"It really is stupid," Sherlock glanced at his love and looked away again. John and Mary decided to leave them alone for this, and Sherlock was glad for that. Victor didn't even notice they had gone, he was too focused on Sherlock. And said boy sighed, "I'm… I'm nervous," he almost stuttered.

Victor chuckled, "What?" is this a joke?

"Yes. I don't know what it is, but I'm nervous about hanging around John, all three of us alone like that," he shrugged. "I don't know," and he looked to Victor, who was smiling and kissed him lightly.

"There's no reason to be, it's just John," he laughed a bit and Sherlock smiled.

But, "Us, too…"

* * *

"Think Sherlock's okay?" John asked as Mary's grip on his hand was killer and he almost screamed when she quickly drug him outside to a bunch of small trees and sat him down in the dirt surrounding the trunk of one tree.

"No, and quite frankly, I don't _care_!" she plopped down beside him and stared at him, almost as if waiting for an explanation.

He was so confused as she wasn't yelling, but close to it. "Why not?" he asked. "Sherlock's our friend-"

"No! he's _your_ friend, not mine. _I_ don't care, but it seems like _you_ do, and almost too much!" she crossed her arms over her small chest and huffed when her back hit the bark. It hurt, but not as much as what she thought was going on.

"'Almost too much'? What do you mean?" and a small slightly furious sweat broke out over John's hands. John is strange, and when he gets angry, or irritated, sometimes even confused, he starts sweating lightly. _So it isn't just me that's noticed my stray thoughts…. _

"Well you're the one with a crush on your best friend, so _you_ tell _me_ what I mean!" she turned away from him and sat about her knees as tears threatened to fall. _All those small glances and almost flirty tones when you talk to Sherlock. The way you used to talk to me… Jesus, John why do you have to be so lovable, and yet love someone else?_

"Mary," John tried to make her look at him again by pulling on her shoulder. "Seriously? And just what makes you think I like him? Do you not remember that night? Please tell me you remember the most loving moment of our relationship," he was almost begging as something stung in his eyes.

"'That night'? You can't even say 'That night we had sex'?! John, everyone does it, I don't know why you're so idiotic when it comes up! God!" she screamed and a few stray glares from other students were given. She calmed a bit and turned to him again.

"Just.. Listen to my reasoning?" Mary asked. And John did listen as he searched her features for something to allow him to comfort Mary without her ripping his head from his shoulders. "You look at him like you used to with me when we first met, and the way you talk to him… don't even get me started on all the unneeded comments you've given," she said. Then through clenched teeth, "And the ones he's returned," she whispered in almost a hiss and John was dumbfounded.

_I do that? He does that? I… Well, leave it to you to notice- what's…? _Mary's tears finally spilled and were dripping to John's upraised palm as he had offered a hug or anything to comfort her, but she just stood and turned away from him. "Mary, don't-" and she whirled around, glaring at him through the tears and soon his own were slowly falling. _That look has been given before, and I never thought I'd be the one behind it. I'm so sorry… _

And his offered hand dropped, his head hung and tears hit his jeans as Mary walked away, wiping away the evidence of what she assumed was a break up. _So this is what it feels like to fall hard and finally hit rock bottom? But I do love you, and I am __**not**__ gay!… then what's with Sherlock being so…? No, I can't- no. Just… Why? _

The small of John's back hit the bark once again, and this time, it was because he was curled up into a human ball, tears falling through his legs to the dirt below, making it darker _(so that's what was making my eyes sting earlier. Fantastic…)_ as his arms wrapped around his knees. It'd been a month plus a few stray weeks, and it felt so good, it was almost heaven… but now it hurts like hell.

* * *

Mary bumped into Victor, hard and not caring, on her way back into the school. Her cheeks were a bit red, and her face… Victor had never seen someone so broken, yet so pissed. _Poor Mary…_ "Sherlock, I think-" Victor started.

"Victor," Sherlock pointed to John, curled up by the tree and both of them gave worried looks to one another, then John. Sherlock and Victor almost ran, but they managed to keep themselves together as their hands separated and Sherlock got there first. "John," he tried, stroking the nape of his neck.

"Leave me alone," he whispered, almost undetectable, but he had shivered when Sherlock touched him. _Stop it, don't touch me like that. _

"Not a chance," Victor said as he sat by the weeping boy. "John, what happened?" Victor asked as he nudged the other blond's shoulder.

"It's obvious what happened, is it not?" Sherlock said as he kneeled in front of John.

"It's not obvious to me…" John tried, but his voice was broken and he choked on those words as more tears fell, faster and mercilessly.

"Oh, John," Sherlock and Victor ended up spouting in almost perfect sync, making John's tears even faster. Mary and he were so close they had done that sometimes, and now they were so far apart. John's throat was on fire and his chest was heaving as he struggled to breathe correctly.

"Sherlock, it hurts…" he suddenly latched onto the boy in front of, and trying to comfort him. "Why does it hurt so much?" he buried his head into Sherlock's shoulder as Victor was almost crying himself. He hated to see people like this. Even if John was someone he was a bit jealous of, it didn't matter now.

A person is a person, no matter what jealousy wants you to think. But then Victor got to thinking, and he looked to Sherlock's eyes, mouthing, 'What about Mary?' _If John's this bad, then Mary's got to be worse, or at least just as much like this… _And it was almost as if Sherlock read his boyfriend's mind.

Because he nodded towards where Mary had walked in, and Victor wiped at his eyes, sniffed, finally almost running, but only slightly jogging after Mary. He had no idea where she could be, but he had to find her. Although, finding her was easy enough when she had collapsed just inside the door. Her legs had failed to hold her any longer.

"Mary, baby, listen to me, it's okay," he kneeled in front of her and she looked up with a glare, as she was in the same position John had taken out by the tree.

"Don't call me 'baby', and don't tell me it's okay!" she glared for a moment more at Victor's shocked face, then her head was buried again.

"Oh, please stop with the tears, Sweetie, it doesn't help if the gay best friend starts crying, too," and at that, Mary giggled a little, but she didn't look up. "Listen, it may not be okay now, but it definitely will be," Victor sat by her side, and nudged her elbow with his own.

Mary looked to Victor with the most confused of faces she had ever given before this moment in time, "How can you be so sure…"

* * *

**Think this is bad? Wait for the next few chapters... I'm so mean. But I don't care! 3:D**


	8. The Weekend

Eight: The Weekend

_You can be the pencil and I can be the paper_

John was so glad when the weekend did actually roll around and he was climbing into Sherlock's car, just like he used to before all the stupid drama. He found that he still loved the sound of the leather bending to him sitting down and the smell of Shezza when he inhaled. It also didn't help that a hint of said smell was what John identified as Sherlock's scent.

He once again shoved his bag to his feet as he regretted not being in the front, but that was Victor's spot now. He deserved it, too. Victor smiled deviously at Sherlock as he slid into said spot and Sherlock gave an innocent one back as he jumped over the door. John wondered if it was _ever_ even opened. _Whatever_, he thought as he pulled the belt over his shoulders as he heard it click and prepared for a lovely burst of fresh air when the key was turned in the ignition. He wanted to be gone already.

Sherlock loved the purr of Shezza as she roared to life and both his boyfriend and who he now considered his best friend smiled and he grinned in return. "Hey, either one of you know of any good radio stations?" John asked, a little quieter than he usually was. Actually, lately, not really.

But, "Sure," Victor said as he pushed some buttons as if Shezza was his own, and soon there was music pouring out over the speakers and out of Shezza. Sherlock loved Victor for how much he didn't care if Sherlock yelled at him for touching things he wasn't permitted to. Although, with Shezza, it didn't matter much. Victor practically owned her anyway. the only he hadn't done was drive her.

And oh, glares from the students and even a teacher they got as they left the school parking lot. They were so pissed that there was hard rock playing for everyone and then some to hear. John just giggled and Sherlock chuckled as he winked at one girl and she scoffed, turning the other way.

But they did eventually and thankfully leave, and the wind initiated by Shezza's speed felt so much better without frames blocking John's face. Sherlock looked to the mirror and watched John briefly as he enjoyed the air whipping back his short blond hair. Sherlock also eyed Victor as he was smiling and his longish hair was doing some sort of dance about his face.

He was beautiful and Sherlock didn't know how he thought he wasn't. But his eyes were once again focused on the never-ending road as the song playing wasn't exactly a distraction, but he could have done without it. Though, he understood what John had been doing asking for it.

He was avoiding conversation because it might go back to her. Sherlock and Victor had avoided the subject of their break up when they were around either of them. for a more specific reason than just the fact there was a break up in the first place. Sherlock will admit, they were amazing at hiding their emotions. Sherlock almost couldn't read Mary once. Of course, he did eventually decipher her features, but she was a damn good actress.

o0o

"Sherlock, is this…?" Victor asked as the radio switched off and both boys gawked at the house- no, mansion displayed before them.

John simply left his things in Shezza's protection as the other two were out of the car shortly after he was. "This is my home, Victor, yes. Don't make such a big deal about it. And John," John glanced at the curly haired idiot as he was addressed, "pick your jaw up from the garden's dirt and let's go," he chuckled as Victor and John shared the same reaction to Sherlock being so well off.

"You never told me about any of this," Victor gasped and Sherlock rolled his beautiful eyes.

"And this is why," he took his boyfriend's hand as John instinctively followed as Victor was lead by Sherlock into the house. The garden adorning the entrance was lovely with so many different types of flowers, and even in those, there were many different shades and colours. John had no idea there was such a thing as a yellow rose until now. The flowers all mixed together smelled amazingly sweet as the front door was pushed open by Sherlock after he had unlocked it. John was too distracted to notice.

But when he did notice, the door swinging open revealed a huge main room with the darkest of blues with the carpet and there were stairs off to the rights and lefts somewhere. John eyed the couch in front of a large screen telly and a few feet behind that set up were chairs around a small glass table that papers were spread about. John wondered what was up the many sets of stairs and soon he would find one set out as Sherlock took in the familiar scene and simply frowned with a bored expression before taking the boys to the stairs shrouded in a slightly lighter navy blue than the living room's carpet.

The wood under the carpeted stairs creaked slightly as the three made their way up, but not as fast as Sherlock would have liked, and a long hall was revealed as John wasn't disappointed. There were lights that resembled old lamps (obviously not actually lamps) and they were lit up with small round and white 'candles' in the middle that made bright light fantastically.

The hall's carpet was the same shade as the stairs as John eyed all the closed doors, and wondered what Holmes secrets they might hold. The handles to said doors glittered brightly with what looked as if it was gold, (again, obviously not really gold) and the key holes were so perfectly cut the observing boys' eyes lit up as the doors wood was painted black, and shiny, surprisingly. John eyed each one and they were all exactly the same as he passed at least six before Sherlock pulled a light blue one open and pushed Victor and John inside. John smiled at the fact that Sherlock's door was finally a different shade when they were pushed through.

And the room they were now presented with was brilliantly boring as the light was flicked on and the door slammed shut, as if Sherlock was keeping someone out. (Well, he was, but that's for later.) He glided to his bedside and his jacket slipped from his shoulders and lazily to the floor as he flopped back, kicking his legs lightly and slightly under the bed, as the frame lifted it from the floor at least six inches.

The bed was simple enough, as was the room itself. John took in everything and Victor simply sighed, a little bored now. Sherlock had a desk over there in the furthest right corner with many things of science, _not surprising, honestly, with the way he is in chemistry class, the little brat is better than me,_ papers everywhere, but that was about it as there was a closet door beside said desk.

He had a few stray things around, pictures or posters strewn about, but he didn't even have a television. John expected it a bit, but now that he thought about it, it's not really a Sherlockian thing. He just didn't seem like a telly watcher. Oh and John forgot that there was a simple, to Sherlock, bathroom right beside him, on the left side. The door was ajar as John could see a hint of tile. But yup, this is Sherlock in a nutshell. Intriguing to the eye, but simple on the inside with the way his mind works.

Of course, his personality was a whole different story, and that was discovered the first day John and Sherlock had met. And you know, now that he looks back on it, it was pretty funny that he was so scared of such a sweetheart. Sherlock doesn't like to admit it, but he's actually really affectionate if you get him in the right situation.

Perhaps, crying on his shoulder, literally, as your girlfriend broke up with you because you were falling in love with your best friend… metaphorically, of course. Victor stole a spot beside Sherlock, also removing his jacket and sitting at Sherlock's hip. "Sherlock, do we do the thing now?" _'The thing?' _John thought, a bit scared now_. What thing? Oh god, what are they going to do to me?_

Sherlock sat up and eyed John, tilting his head a little as his curls seemed to bounce a little more and John simply looked to the floor and somehow still felt vulnerable under that intense stare that he should be used to. The one that said Sherlock was studying something or someone as his undeniably lovely sea blue/green eyes took in John's form plus his facial expression as well as his nonexistent breathing pattern. "If you wish," Sherlock sighed in response to Victor's question and John's breath was definitely gone now. _These two and a plan between them is never good… _"John, we have something we've been meaning to ask you," he looked to Victor as if to say, 'Go ahead, idiot.'

Victor nodded, taking in a sharp breath and letting it spill out back out, "Sherlock and I would like to know why breaking up with Mary was such a tragedy. I mean, you liked her, a lot, but what made her so special? No offense it's just that I don't see it And of course, Sherlock just didn't care, the stupid git, but anyway…"

John chuckled a bit, nodding as he pursed his lips and sat beside Sherlock on the other side. _Where do I start? She was amazing? No, that's what every idiot says about their ex. Uhm, how do I even begin? __**Do**__ I know why, or was it just that she was… __**Mary**__?_

So, he simply started out with, "She was her own person, and with that, she was so different. She didn't stare at me with a blank look as I explained something, she actually talked to me. Now, _of course_, at first it was her looks, but when I got deeper into just… _Mary_, it was so brilliant and breathtaking, as she's brilliant and breathtaking… but I fucked it up," he shrugged. "We had one night of perfect bliss and then it started falling to pieces," he admitted and Sherlock instantly knew what he meant. Victor was a little lost, though.

"We were tearing at the seams that hadn't existed in the first place, if that makes sense," his brows furrowed in the confusion either Sherlock or Victor might display. "I told her I loved her, and I did. (he **did**…) She would say the same and mean it, which I still believe she does, but…" he couldn't continue, as it was starting to hurt now, his throat tingling and his eyes burning and all.

"It's okay, John," Sherlock rubbed his back as John was brought into an embrace by a sudden Victor being by his other side. He had no idea when that had happened. But he didn't cry, he was on the brink of it, though, as he held fast to his friend's shoulders.

Their defense was, "We had to ask, it helps us all to talk about things. I know it's early but we don't you being all depressed, it isn't fun, we would know," Victor explained as he also held tighter when John's grip was almost a death hug, so he was trying to even it out. But Victor didn't mind being squeezed to death.

Friends are friends, and there for people. This is what friends do best, they help…

* * *

**I promise it's not all depressing. Other stuff will happen in their weekend, but for now, this is it. Reviews? What do you think Mary is doing now?...**


	9. The Idiot's Confusing Turmoil

Nine: The Idiot's Confusing Turmoil

_And in time I know that we'll both see_

"It's Saturday, you lump. Wake up," Victor prodded and John giggled a little when they both observed how the curls disappeared quickly under the duvet. "Sherlock, I will come under there," Victor threatened as he smiled.

"And do what exactly?" Sherlock mumbled loud enough to be heard, but he was still sleepy as his fingers were wrapped lazily around the edge of the duvet still hiding his body completely. He didn't want to get up.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Victor teased, and Sherlock lowered the duvet slowly, his eyes narrow and staring at Victor, challenging that threat. Sherlock rose one brow, questioning whether Victor would really. Then he looked to John, who was struggling not to laugh as Sherlock's curls were everywhere and his eyes were so full of sleep.

Sherlock sighed, pushing the covers from himself and Victor stood, as he had been kneeling on the side of the bed trying to get Sherlock out of it. John was already standing, and both of the boys disturbing Sherlock were already dressed and ready to do something.

Sherlock sat up, stretching and suddenly he said, "Go away, you two, or I'll be forced to undress in front of you," he crossed his arms over his skinny chest and the silk PJs he wore. It was quite adorable and Victor smiled deviously while John blushed a little with irritation at his thoughts and embarrassment that he'd even been thinking them in the first place. _Adorable? What is wrong with me? _

The pink luckily faded from John's face quickly, though as the two were shoved out into the hallway. When the door shut and locked, the two looked to each other, and burst into giggles/ laughing. They didn't even know what it was that was so funny. Perhaps the fact that Sherlock was so unhappy to leave his bed? Or maybe the fact that he threatened to undress in front of them, as if it would make a difference?

But as John calmed and thought about it as Victor resorted to chuckling, John suddenly realized it would have made a difference. A huge one. He didn't know why, but the thought of Sherlock stripping in front of them was… never mind, it was nothing. It really couldn't be anything, anyway. Sherlock has Victor, and Victor has Sherlock. _End of story,_ _or is it? No, stop it, just quit!_

And once Victor also got a hold of that dirty thought, he grinned. John didn't see it , though. He was leaned against the brunette's door, focused on why he thought Sherlock was adorable, and attractive, for that matter. _He's a boy, like me. And while I'm not a homophobe, I still am __**not**__ gay. Am I? No, I'm not, I can't be. I've never had an interest in a boy before… _

Victor glanced at John and his grin faded to a polite smile upon seeing John's thoughtful face, "What are you thinking about?" he nudged John's shoulder and the boy was roused from his thoughts with a sigh.

"Honestly, I don't even know, anymore," he admitted. He wanted to tell Victor so badly of his internal turmoil, but he knew that if he did, it would shatter what little and growing friendship they do have. So he kept his mouth shut, and the door he was leaning on suddenly fell away. "Ah! Sherlock!"

He grabbed at the younger boy's sleeve, but failed. And he would have fallen, except for the fact that Sherlock's fingers wrapped around his forearm and pulled him from the inches from the floor he was. _You're a lot stronger than you look, aren't you? _John thought to himself._ God, stop it! Quit thinking about it, and it'll go away… _

Victor blinked twice as Sherlock readjusted his jacket, and John's irritated pink returned to his cheeks as his palms started regrettably sweating. "Sorry, didn't realize you were leaning against the door. Although, it was an idiotic thing to do, so should I really even apologize?" Sherlock shrugged. _Arrogant cock… _"Let's go, then. This whole street is filled with places I enjoy going to," he smiled, John nodded, and Victor smiled in return, grabbing Sherlock's hand as they were down the hall, and the stairs, and eventually out the door.

The garden was still sweet as they walked through and instead of going to Shezza, Sherlock turned on the sidewalk, and he was right, all down this street were shops and things that looked a bit interesting to go into, honestly.

"Shall we begin?" Sherlock asked in a slightly deeper, and really sexy voice as Victor and John laughed, nodding and following him down the sidewalk…

Line Break

Mary woke to a solid knock to her wooden door. She sighed, pushing herself from the small couch. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes as she looked through the peep hole, and upon seeing who she hadn't expected, she was definitely irritated now. But she shook the sleep from her eyes, and the irritation faded a bit as she opened the door and it creaked as this woman smiled at Mary.

"What the hell do you want, Mother?" Mary asked rudely.

"Don't give me that language, brat. I just wanted to see how you were doing. Is that okay with you?" she asked, her auburn died bangs flopping over her worried and honestly tired eyes. She swept them away as Mary eyed her. Mary's mother had always been an expensive git. Always wearing long coats that cost way too much and heels that showed off her toes that she always had done, as well as her fingernails and anything else on her body that she felt was 'ugly'.

Mary was glad she had left home. After the death of her father, her mother had gone from boyfriend to boyfriend, even a girlfriend once, trying to find someone to love her the way Arthur had. And once that failed, she started loving herself a lot more than was needed. But she still goes from person to person.

Mary sighed, "Mum, I have to go to work in an hour, and yes, I'm fine, just…" she pinched the bridge of her nose, "go home to whoever you have paying for you now, and leave me alone," she said, trying to close the door once again.

But her mum insisted on coming in, "Come on, Agatha, don't shut me out," she begged, dropping her hands from her hair to her sides, and staring at her daughter.

"That's not my name, Mother, I'm done with it. I told you, my name," she yawned shortly, "is Mary. Mary Elizabeth Morstan," Mary explained to her mum. Or can she even be considered her mother anymore?

"Why choose that name? Agatha Grace Rachel Adams is so much better than Mary Elizabeth Morstan. Mary shook her head in slight disbelief, and her mother scoffed.

"Mother, I'm fifteen, it probably won't stay the same, anyway. After all, I'm going to college in three years," she said as her mother had a discouraged look about her beautiful features. Honestly, she was really pretty, but the clothes and make up covers it all. Mary has always been disappointed with her mother after her father's passing.

Before then, she was an amazing mother, a beautiful wife, and a great teacher. Yes, she teaches kindergarten, but now? She's just a big disappointment. "Ag- Mary," Mary's head tilted up to her mother as her favoured name was used. "I know you're disappointed," _oh yeah_, "with the way I've been acting lately. But, I really do care about my only daughter and child. And I wanted to know how she was, seeing as your occupations include extreme dangers. So, um, I guess," she folded her hands in her lap. "Good luck. And don't leave your idiotic mother with a body."

"Mum," she looked up at her daughter, "There is no danger in working at a grocery store," she chuckled and her mum just shook her head, but smiled at how Mary was always like that. Joking about everything.

"No, but… the other thing, you know," and Mary did know, "just be careful. I don't want to see in the news that a girl was murdered in the streets of London because she was selling-"

"I get it, Mum, and I am careful, never have been a moron about what I do. I promise I will be safe, always. But the manager needs me in forty five minutes, and I'm still in my jamies," Mary gestured to herself and the cloth she wore instead of proper clothing.

"Right, okay. Sorry," she apologized quickly. But then there was this, "But I do love you," she said shortly as she grabbed the handle of Mary's door. Mary couldn't do anything but stare at the creaking wood under her feet as her mother yanked the door open with a squeak, and her heels clicked away in the tiled hall as the door slammed on its own, it always does that. But what hadn't always happened, was Mary's mother telling her she loved her.

That hadn't happened since the Christmas before Arthur left them alone selfishly. So there she stood, her eyes wide and tears threatening to fall. But they didn't, instead, they disappeared as she once again, slid everything from her mind, and went to go shower.

o0o

Mary was a bit early today, so she placed her bike behind the store, in that special place, so no one would see it, and it would stay until she was finished today. And by the time she was back out front, her manager was unlocking the door for the employees to get to work setting up. "Same routine, then?" Mary asked, and he jumped, but upon seeing his best employee, he calmed.

"Yeah, same as always." And they were through the door, but the sign doesn't flip over to 'Open' until two hours from now. So Mary set to work bringing out boxes from the back, to replace the items bought yesterday as almost every other employee walked through the door and started helping.

Mary hated that she only had one other female co-worker besides Molly. But then again, it was less drama. And trust me when I say that drama isn't needed, at all or anywhere. And you'd be surprised at how much goes on in a simple store.

"Hey, Molly," Mary greeted from a squatting position on the floor and Molly smiled down at her, greeting her in return.

And then, "Mary, guess what?" she beamed and Mary mumbled a 'What?' through reaching to the back of the boxes and replacing them, one by one. "We get a new girl today," she smiled and started helping as well with restocking things on the shelves.

"We do?" Why hadn't she heard about this? Mary hears about everything, usually from her manager. _Hm… this is intriguing._

"Yeah, she moved here recently, and I also heard that she's also going to school with us on Monday," she looked to Mary and the face the blond pulled. It said she was surprised, but she also didn't want another girl. Molly was enough, not that she was bad or anything, but Mary sort of enjoyed having conversations to herself and her best of friends.

"Huh," Mary had stopped, thinking and staring at the can of beans in her hand. "And her name?" Mary asked curiously.

But before Molly could respond, she was swiftly cut off by someone giggling behind Mary and herself. "Hello, my name is Janine…"

Line Break

"Walk faster, John!" Sherlock demanded and grabbed John by the arm because he was slowing down as Victor had his other hand occupied.

"Unless it's to get food, I'm not going anywhere," he was really hungry now, as they hadn't stopped for breakfast yet.

"Actually, I was waiting for this one to open, it's one of my favourite places to go," Sherlock explained as he shoved all three of them through the door of Angelo's. And instantly after the jingle of the door bell, an old man, half bald and grey, was rushing to their side.

He beamed at Sherlock, and smiled at the boys hands as he realized Sherlock really was capable of love, "What can I get you boys…"

* * *

**I just can't stop writing this, as the plot thickens, I love it all the more. I'm glad I stuck with this one. Aren't you guys? **


	10. Well Well, Look Who's In Love

**Author's Warning: By the way, I don't like Janine, so neither can you guys… Just saying… And, I apologize for the line thingy not working last time. It was being difficult and I gave up... But, please do R&amp;R**

* * *

Ten: Well Well, Look Who's In Love

_You can be the rain from the cloud when it's stormin'_

Mary looked behind her to the girl who had spoken, smiling at her with both a beautifully fluffy smile, but dark brown eyes that seemed boring. "Mary," Mary greeted, after Janine had stated her own name and Molly did the same. Then they both proceeded to help in explaining things to her about the store and some gossip about the manager and how to tick him off right.

But other than enjoying telling her that, Mary thought Janine was kinda boring. Janine was predictable with wearing jeans, but a fluffy ruffled blouse that showed off what little tits she did have. Mary had nowhere to judge with having small breasts, but at least she didn't wear clothes like… _that!_

Molly seemed to like Janine, though. Maybe because they were a lot alike? Molly was a bit boring herself, but not as much as Janine. And she wasn't as slutty, or trying to act as if she was the shit.

Although, Mary was beginning to think, _Maybe she could be of use to me somehow…_

* * *

This weekend was a bit more than John expected, what with barely resting before they went somewhere new. It was fun definitely, but very exhausting. So when Sherlock started taking Victor and John home, they both declared they were going to bed straight away.

Victor was first, kissing Sherlock for the umpteenth time before going and leaving Sherlock grinning like a madman. John rolled his eyes as he stole Victor's spot once he had left. He liked it better up front. "Do you love him?" John asked as Sherlock started pulling away from Victor's flat. He had no idea where that question had come from, he had just needed to ask it.

"Does it matter?" Sherlock asked in return, quirking a brow.

"No, I was just wondering," he looked to his lap as the wind picked up again, and this time it was cold, as darkness was taking hold of the afternoon turning to evening. Although, there was one thing all three of them noticed amongst all of the distractions this weekend. And Sherlock finally figured out why Victor was so jealous and a bit angry at John.

He flirted with anything, and he did it a lot. Especially with Sherlock, which was painfully obvious. Victor had met up with some of his old friends over the weekend while they were eating someplace, and John flirted like hell with the one girl, on front of her boyfriend! And she went along with it, too!

But once Sherlock and John were alone, John would do anything to flirt, and Sherlock wondered if John noticed this himself, or if it just sort of… happened. But soon enough, John was climbing out of the car. Sherlock followed this time, grabbing John's arm. "What's with you lately?" he asked.

"How do you mean?" John questioned, looking to the connection Sherlock had made between the two, then Sherlock's face with his brows furrowed in confusion.

"You're all… flirty," Sherlock wiggled his fingers at John and John chuckled, "and it's really weird. I mean I know you're single, but come on. Do you have to be so obvious?" Sherlock whined. Why was he whining?

"And you know something?" John started, and Sherlock listened as he finished. "You've been soaking it up, and even returned it once, so what's the big deal? Plus, you're right. I am single, so I might as well make the best of it, because she was the best…." He choked suddenly as he knew those words weren't exactly true anymore.

"My point was, John, what am I supposed to do? You throw these things at me, and I have no idea how to handle them. the looks, the words, the _touches_," he admitted and shivered a little as John had moved their connection to grabbing his hand. "See!? This!" he held their hands up and John blushed a little.

"You handle Victor's flirting quite well," John pointed.

"Yes, with more flirting, because that's what partners do, but with you? I don't want to hurt you or anyone else, but I can't do it back. So, what do I do so that you'll stop? I have Victor, and I'm sorry, but-"

"Shut up," John said through almost choking on his own surprising words. His palms were starting to sweat again and he was a bit shaky. "You have no idea what it's like to be heartbroken and seeking comfort in any way. And mine is through flirting and fluffy things. Besides, you're- never mind. You know what? I don't even know anymore…" and he really didn't.

"Well, if you don't know, John," Sherlock started in the lightest of voices, like he was comforting John, because he felt he was. "And I don't know, then who does?" he asked and John shook his head and shrugged.

"I don't know… it's just… she was… and I… you're…" he gave a strangled cry when he gave in and latched onto the taller boy's shoulders, tears slowly pouring over. He couldn't take this anymore. He'd known he'd been way too happy this weekend to not cry at some point.

Sherlock soothed him, though, rubbing his back and whispering for him to calm down, and that it's okay. "It's not okay," John whispered loudly as he buried himself deeper into the smell of Sherlock and the tears he could feel dripping down his cheeks. "Sherlock, it won't ever be okay, and you know why…"

"I know why? Oh, of course I know," he sighed. But John gripped tighter, and suddenly let go enough to look up at Sherlock. Sherlock was trying to figure out what he knew, but once he did, it was almost too surprising to take in, especially with John's soft lips suddenly against his.

Sherlock pushed back, smashing John to the wall of his building and pressing himself on him until their breath and everything became one. And he didn't even realize what he was doing until he heard the boy under him groan. The tears had stopped, though. That was good thing, right?

"John, why did you-" Sherlock started.

"Because I could," John reasoned, "and because… because you're the reason I feel so guilty, about everything. Because I'm falling in … in love with you, and now, you just cheated. So maybe we should just avoid each other for a while, hm?"

"No," Sherlock growled.

"No?" John was confused.

"I'm not avoiding you. And I'm not leaving until you fix what you've done," he explained and again, John was so confused.

"What I've done?" he looked to Sherlock's eyes as he finally realized what was in them. Sherlock took John's hand, and lead them to his jeans, where John could feel the heat that was growing. "How did I do that?! You could learn to control yourself, you know!" he scolded, leaving Sherlock chuckling and grinning.

"One can only control themselves as much as the next person." He bent to John's ear and breathed hotly, " And you didn't control yourself, either," he whispered deeply and John shivered, feeling a thigh pressed to his groin.

"Sherlock, aren't you worried about this?" John asked.

"We won't get caught, that is, if you can keep quiet," Sherlock whispered again, nibbling at John's ear.

"No, I mean… What about Victor?" John asked suddenly and Sherlock stopped moving, stopped breathing, and for once, John was scared of what he might do. Not for himself, but for Sherlock.

Sherlock pulled back, rigid and wondering… _What __**about **__Victor? What would he say? What would he __**do**__? _"Never speak of this, you hear me, Watson?" Sherlock wiggled a finger as his breathing returned, but it was a lot heavier than usual.

John swore, "I won't ever. Just promise me you won't tell anyone," _I'm not gay. I may like Sherlock, but there's a difference between liking a boy and being gay. Er, wait, oh God, what if that's why I could never actually get a date? Wait, no, I had sex with a girl, I am definitely not gay. Bisexual, then? Ah! I don't know! Sherlock, you made everything all weird!_

Sherlock, upon seeing John thinking about and to himself, walked away, hopping in Shezza, and taking off. Whilst John stood there, shocked and not understanding completely what happened… _So, I'm crushing on my best friend, and you like me back? No, you're with Victor… Then why did you…? Why are you so confusing, you stupid git!?_

But Sherlock, oh he drove like a madman. Tears were welling and he wanted them to just stop as he finally reached his home. He frantically ran through the small garden, and in the darkness, fumbled with his keys in his suddenly somehow large hands. _Come on, come on, come on… _

He couldn't be seen like this, showing emotion and being confused, afraid even. He finally got the door open, and he rushed up the stairs, stomping and making the wood creak and complain under his weight. He practically sprinted to the safety of his room, as tears did start to fall.

He did like Victor, it was just that John somehow got in there, too. He loved Victor's hair, his eyes, his smile, his… everything. But when he thought about John… oh God, it was like someone replaced his heart with an engine.

He always thought John was adorable with those glasses, and without them. Dear Lord, he was as sexy as Aphrodite was good at pairing people. And in his mind, with this, she had done a horrible job. Victor was there first, and now he's being thought of second.

Sherlock decided he would forget about this until in the morning. Right now, he needed a shower, and sleep. Although, he didn't think he'd be able to sleep after this. But he still needed a shower. Which he did have, and afterwards dressed in PJs. Then brushed his teeth in the silence of nagging and almost unwelcome thoughts.

_How do I delete complete and utter emotion for my best friend? And what the hell am I supposed to say if and/or when Victor and I split? 'Oh, I want John now, fuck you and your feelings for me!' How did I even fall in… love(?)… with John in the first place? Ugh… __**love.**__ So predictable yet easy to fall into..._

* * *

**How's that for a predicament? Hope you enjoyed. Do review! :-)**


	11. Mary?

Eleven: Mary…?

_You can be the tear that I cry if we ever split_

John stood there out in the cold, hearing Shezza drive way made his heart beat slower as he realized Sherlock was gone… Going, and he didn't have to worry as much about getting an erection and having to deal. But there was something else. What was this feeling? He's felt it before, and no, not the Sherlockian feels he always gets. He felt as if he was being watched and when he looked up, he jumped at seeing a figure in front of him, a little closer than needed.

But it was pitch black by the time he had regained his thoughts to being reasonable enough to think clearly and maybe even speak, he could only make out that it was a girl. Her curves standing out well in the dark more than anything, and especially with the way her shirt was tucked into her slightly tighter than necessary jeans, John knew this woman had to be attractive. Her blouse seemed to light the dark a bit, being extremely white, almost like snow in the nothingness of the darkness.

She swayed and her hip popped out to the side a bit more as she shifted her weight to one foot and John gulped down his little bit of fear. He didn't even know who this was, for God's sake. But he managed to speak, nice, even breaths. Although, a bit quiet, due to it being someone unknown, "Can I help you, ma'am?"

"Why are you standing out in the cold, John…?"

* * *

Sherlock needed air, and his bedroom, sadly, wasn't helping as it always had before. Though, not lately, somehow. He had to think about things, and with Victor's memory popping up everywhere, as well as John's over there in the corner saying, 'Think about me, too…' Sherlock couldn't take it. He had to get out. Now.

He dressed hurriedly, but in what he always wore. So it ended up being something black over his chest and torso to be tucked into jeans (probably a band tee of some kind, as the sleeves were longer than a muscle shirt), and the legs of his jeans rolled up a bit, as these ones were a little longer than expected. Then it that jacket that he's always loved, soft on the inside, but leather on the outside, and gloves to keep from the cold of the midnight air, although, they stopped covering his hands at the first knuckle of his fingers. And finally, his favourite colour of Converse, red, but a bit faded, especially in the dark of the night, over simple white ankle socks. _Okay_, and he ruffled his hair once more, making sure it didn't look like he had just gotten out of bed. Even though he had.

No, he was going to see about something, and it wouldn't do to look like a scruffy idiot. Plus, it will be disappointing either way it goes, and there's only two ways it could go. Sherlock was confident that one way would hurt more than the other though. God, Mycroft was so right, why did he have to be right?

But that wasn't Sherlock's biggest concern right now. Right now, he had to go places, person to see. Except that there was a certain person in the main room, one he didn't particularly want to see or hear the voice was. _Damn_. Usually Sherlock could just go wherever, though, so he was going to simply walk out the door, but that fucking voice stopped him.

"I told you not to get involved. So you made a friend, fell in love," Mycroft scoffed, "but not with who you wanted," Sherlock could the 'I told you so,' in that comment, but he left it alone, knowing he deserved it anyway. "Go on, Sherlock, no one's stopping you, but you need to think about what you're about to do before you do it."

What _was_ he about to do? _He_ didn't even know. "Shut up Piecroft Scones, and let my business be mine," and he was out the door as he heard his brother suddenly clicking away again at the mobile in his hands. He loved using that nickname on Mycroft, it was always funny to see or hear his reaction. By now, though, it was just a habit that both of them had accepted. That as well as Sherlock driving out in the middle of the night to think. He'd done it a lot lately, actually.

The door slightly slammed when it shut as it always did behind Sherlock, and he somewhat happily pulled his keys from out of his pocket, in his jacket, where he _always _kept them safe, and hopped into Shezza without a second thought, or even a second glance at the house and its garden outside the door.

The key slid neatly into Shezza's ignition, allowing the turn of the shiny silver key, and the purr of the engine coming to life just for him. He loved the sound of this, and he loved the wind through his hair even more when he actually got to driving to his true destination tonight. He just hoped a certain person was awake…

o0o

"Mary, don't-" and John was cut off by her shoving him to the brick wall, and it actually hurt a bit as his back hit it without a sound.

"Shut up! Do you even know how this feels?" Mary asked as if he had the answer she was looking for. And John's eyes widened when he could faintly smell the alcohol on her breath.

But he managed to stay calmer than one would being trapped by a surprisingly strong woman, and absent mindedly wondering how they knew that familiar sound. His head turned as he tried to see who had just parked where, but Mary's hand stopped his face from moving at all.

She had a killer grip on his jaw, but she let go when she saw John wince and heard him let out the quietest whimper from pain. And he was speaking again, "Mary, _you_ left _me_, I don't understand-"

And he was cut off yet again, "_I _left _you _because _you_ love that _stupid_ brunette more than me, more than anything so it seems. I don't even know how it happened, or why, or even how it happened so quickly, but it's definitely there…" she stuttered a bit at that last word, and John's eyes were tearing up. "And I hate it!" she shouted at him as she backed off a bit.

"Why do you have to love him? I don't care if he's another man," and John's breath caught at that, but she kept going. "That doesn't matter to me, but why _him_!? What's oh so special about a man _dating another man_, I might add-" and this time, it was her turn to be cut off by her own surprise when John grabbing her shoulders, and throwing her under his grip to the wall, as she had done to him…

* * *

Sherlock was just walking and thinking about what to say, also about to see if John was awake so they could talk properly about what happened, when he heard Mary shouting. Slightly slurred, probably alcohol, and then he looked up, and what he saw boggled his mind to no end. Mary was saying something, and suddenly she was against the wall, because John had put her there.

Sherlock decided since there was enough bricks left on the building that he could quietly get to the side of it so he could hear what John was about to say, but he wouldn't be seen or heard behind the side wall. He also decided that since this was probably going to take a while (as John always takes forever in explaining things that are hard for even _him_ to understand), he pulled his cigarettes from his jacket's pocket, where he always kept them, opposite the side his keys were.

He popped one in his beautiful mouth, lighting it with a favored purple lighter as he heard ragged breathing, and John finally spoke…

* * *

"You want to know something?" he asked rhetorically, "I don't know how any of this happened either. But you wanna know something else?" she eyed him, pursing her lips in slight though, then nodded, even though he would have said it anyway. "I don't really care anymore. You showed me what it was like to fall in love quickly, but with the way this turned out, I don't think I could handle a relationship like that again. I would probly just ruin it _again_. But what _you_ need to _know_," he paused a little for breath, "is that it still hurts, even right now, it's hard not to just… The point is, you're not the only one hurting, and you'll never be the only one.

"Now, if we can move this along, it's getting colder by the second, and I doubt this," he pulled on part of the collar of her button down, "is going to keep you warm. Hell, I can feel you shivering now." And Mary was slightly shivering, from three things.

At first it had been fear that she had made John angry enough to do something to her, maybe hurt her, but that subsided once she thought about it correctly. Then it was the close proximity he had taken to talk to her without being interrupting, she may still hate him, but he also still turned her on more than anything. And _then_ there was the cold of the air in the night.

She sighed as John let go of her arms and she slid them around his shoulders instead. She hugged him close, and at first he was confused, but he eased into it, hugging back. "I am sorry, and I guess you really can't help who you fall in love with," and John's surprise came back, a little more so than earlier. What was she up to now?

Usually when Mary's temper got out of hand, she would quickly calm down, but then something else a lot worse would follow. It could be days, maybe even weeks later, but it will happen. So what will it be now? Oh God, John hoped it wasn't a kick to the family jewels, he'd had that once from a bitch who couldn't take that he'd dumped her, (because she being a difficult bitch), and it hurts like hell. But John sighed, lightly swaying and hugging her until she finally let go. John was mourning her familiar heat a little, but he let her go.

"Good night, love. I'll see you at school," she promised and he nodded, letting her walk away. And he was just about to walk into the building and go the fuck to bed, when a different figure emerged from behind the side wall and he saw that shadow, and the shadow only.

"Great, and just how much of that did you hear?" he didn't even know who it was, but he had to ask if they heard anything, because they were probably a classmate that was going to tease him.

But when that baritone voice spilled words into the air like hot chocolate and it _felt_ as if the air had warmed a bit, his heart beat a little faster in his chest in response. "John, I am sorry about Mary," the cigarette bouncing in between his lips, but almost finished. The smoke somewhat illuminated the darkness as John realized Sherlock was _smoking_.

His hands were in his pockets, and he was _puffing_ on a _cigarette_. Now that would have to change, for the better health of everything. "Sherlock…"

* * *

**So, how was that then? A bit weird, I will admit, but I hope you enjoyed it!**


	12. You're Not Sorry

**Author's Warning: Couldn't help with the smut, I've had enough of the innocence... And I'm not sorry about it, either... R&amp;R!**

* * *

Twelve: You're Not Sorry

_You can be the captain and I can be your first mate_

"How many times am I to be pinned to a wall tonight before I can go the fuck to bed?" John whined when Sherlock's fingers wrapped around his wrist and pinned them to the brick behind him.

"Depends, do you want to be pinned to the wall, or can we go to your room to do this?" Sherlock asked with a cocky smile.

"Do what?!" John demanded, somehow wishing it was what he thought, yet also hoping it wasn't.

"You know what, John. I'm done, you're mine, and that won't ever change, now we can do this with your proper consent or I'll make you want it," Sherlock threatened and John's head hung.

"You know I want it, Sherlock, the problem is, I don't think you really do," John had admitted and his eyes closed to he wouldn't have to face Sherlock anymore.

But Sherlock's hand let go of one of John's and came to his chin, where he was made to look up and open his eyes to Sherlock's being so much closer, watching him. "I've wanted this ever since we met," he said. Then he pressed a somewhat chaste kiss to John's lips, lingering and not wanting to move.

But John broke the already getting heated kiss, "Then why-? Never mind, I won't bring that up again," he looked to the ground and Sherlock made him look back to his eyes. Those beautiful sea green and somehow blue eyes.

"No, say it," even though he already knew what John was about to say.

"Then why are you with Victor, and why didn't you just tell me? We could have avoided all of the pain and just gone straight to this," he reasoned and Sherlock, instead of leaving again, actually pondered about this. He had been thinking about it all night, and yet he hadn't thought about it like that. Leave it to John to make him realize this.

"I… don't.. know…" Sherlock whispered the confession that he always hated, and he looked down, letting go of John's hands completely, and taking a safe step back.

"I'm going to bed," John said, walking away a bit before turning back to the idiot out in the cold, "Joining me?" he asked, and Sherlock's eyes looked back up to John extending a hand. At first, he didn't know what to think yet again, John making him dumbfounded. Because hadn't John just rejected him? He would have thought so, but now he was asking to be taken. So asking for it, and Sherlock would oblige.

"I hope you know, you won't be sleeping for at least another hour," Sherlock grinned and John shrugged.

"Honestly," he pulled out the keys o the flat, "I've thought about this more than anything, and I really do want this, but I still wish we wouldn't have hurt certain people in the process," he shook his head, and swallowed hard once the lock was opened and Sherlock pushed John inside, slamming the door closed while pushing John to it.

Their lips locked and Sherlock accidently groaned, not knowing how much he had wanted to do this until he had done it. But John was surprised, only whimpering in that surprise. And he melted once he realized that **Sherlock** was pushing him to the door, **Sherlock** was kissing him, and **Sherlock** was going to do so much more…

They stumbled, trying to get upstairs without breaking apart, and Sherlock ended up laying down on the floor at the top of the stairs, pulling John on top of him and moaning with John when their groins rubbed against each other, and it was so good. Even if they had all their clothes on, they were so turned on, it was starting to throb with the lust that had consumed the boys.

Sherlock's jacket was stripped before they even reached the bedroom, as well as those stupid gloves and both boys' shoes. And John had managed to get their socks off too, before they were finally in his room, closing the door and John heard Sherlock growl possessively as he was thrown to the covers of his bed.

He gasped when Sherlock started at his neck, kissing and biting and somehow licking all at once. John didn't exactly know how to handle this, he'd only ever had sex twice, and never with a man. Oh God, would it hurt? He hoped it wouldn't, but he had heard so much about the fact that it did for the first time.

"Don't worry so much, John, I've got you," Sherlock promised and John raised a shaky hand to Sherlock's curls.

"I know you do, it's just… nerves, I guess," John admitted and Sherlock rolled his eyes, going back to the mark he was making on John's neck. John's fingers were tangles into those curls as he made noises that had Sherlock wanting more than John's neck.

Sherlock fingertips were under John's shirt, and pulled it from his needing to be exposed skin as John's arm raised and the nuisance was finally gone. Sherlock did the same for himself and went about kissing the new territory he had revealed. He especially focused on John's nipples, because they were what made him writhe and moan the most.

Especially with Sherlock running his canines over them, and sucking and even biting once, making them stand out more and a turn a bit more red than pink. But John could care less, enjoying himself too much to have Sherlock's mouth move. He had a hard grip on Sherlock's curls, they were so soft and demanding to be pulled. John loved them more than anyone else's hair, even his own.

Then it was on to the trousers they still had attached to themselves, and then their pants, and soon enough, they were both stark naked, rubbing against one another and whispering names in the heat of breath. And suddenly, Sherlock had had enough, "Please tell me you have condoms and lubricant?" he begged and John nodded, pointing lazily to the night stand right beside the bed.

Sherlock grinned, digging around in the drawer before finding what he needed, or well, wanted so badly it was a need. And John took the condom, "You're topping, then, aren't you?" he whispered and Sherlock winked as the package was skillfully twirled between John's fingers, making Sherlock harder, even though he didn't think that was possible.

"You know it," he said and popped the cap of the lube, making John shiver when it squirted out on his fingers. John moaned when he felt the cold of it about his entrance when Sherlock wasted no time getting to preparing him. But John kept a little focus and a bit of sense enough to rip the condom in his fingers open, and while Sherlock kept himself busy with preparing John, John had the condom on Sherlock in seconds.

The brunette moaned when he felt John's fingers over his arousal and John continued to stroke, loving the sounds coming from the tall brunette. He was very responsive. But John ended up gripping harder when Sherlock digit penetrated him, and he clenched around this finger.

Sherlock smiled, gasping when John had an iron grip on his member. But John relaxed once he realized he needed to calm the fuck down. He released Sherlock's cock, not wanting to hurt him, and instead wrapped his arms around Sherlock's neck, and spread his legs wider, giving Sherlock all the access he needed.

There was the first finger, in all the way and it had John moaning quietly and trying not to make too much noise. But when there was a second thrust in without a warning, he almost screamed, but it came out as a loud moan. Sherlock grinned, slightly scissoring them and stroking John's inner walls. John shivered and moaned in time with the sparks that ran down his spine, making Sherlock encouraged to add just one more.

It did hurt at first, feeling something inside him like that, stretching and stroking, but John got used to it, and once Sherlock's fingers pulled out, he actually missed them. John whimpered a bit when Sherlock drizzled just a bit more lubricant onto himself, shaking lightly at the fact that if stroking himself felt this good, what about the heat he felt inside John?

But instead of taking him violently hard and fast, Sherlock restrained himself, pushing in slowly once he had made sure it wouldn't hurt so much. John's back arched when Sherlock's head breached his entrance, and he couldn't help it when he wriggled his hips, trying to get more to atone for the missing fingers. And they were all right, it did hurt, but the pleasure of being full rode over the pain, and eventually it was pure, blissful, pleasure…

Sherlock noticed this, and pushed in further, slowly and eventually all the way to the hilt, rocking his hips a bit to test if this was okay. John gasped when Sherlock was fully sheathed inside him, and he moaned when he felt the movement. _So this is good? Just keep this up, and you'll be okay, John I promise I'm not an idiot._

"Sherlock…" John breathed, "fuck me," he almost begged as the whisper came out into Sherlock's ear and he couldn't help but to blush a little at that comment. And Sherlock swallowed hard, throbbing and nodded, needing friction.

And once he started rocking his hips into John, he fell into total bliss, listening more to the moans coming from John, and surprisingly himself than anything else, like the cars outside on the streets. It felt soo good to be buried in this boy. It gave him a sense of _finally_, this was _finally_ happening.

When John started asking for more, once again, Sherlock started rocking faster, making them both moan louder. Sherlock watched himself slip in and out of John's arse, and he almost came right there with how loud John was getting. And himself! He had never thought he could enjoy this so much.

Lost and wanting this to never stop, Sherlock started going faster, and harder, and John clawed into his back, he was so full and it felt better than he could have ever imagined. But once Sherlock had picked up speed, both of them started to feel as though an orgasm couldn't be avoided now.

And once Sherlock hit that one spot on the inside, John toppled over the edge, screaming Sherlock's name as white blurred his vision and cum was spilling onto his and Sherlock's stomach. Upon hearing John's release and feeling John clench around him so hard he couldn't move, Sherlock screamed John's name, and came with it feeling so much better than he could have ever imagined it would. He blinked and tried to get his vision back as he slowly slid out of John, needing to remove the condom before he gets too soft and something happens, like I don't know, getting stuck or something. Hey, it happens…

Though Sherlock was surprised he could even think straight enough to tie it off as he had been taught before, and tossed it in the little garbage can John kept in his room, and John whined when he felt that Sherlock left. He wasn't used to feeling empty yet, and he hated yet loved it. It meant he finally had what he wanted, but now he wanted it again.

Sherlock climbed back into the bed, grabbing a few tissues and wiping himself and John off, cum had gotten everywhere. Then tossing those, too, he simply cuddled into John, accepting John's embrace and sighing. Finally content…

* * *

**They you are, not as good as I would have liked, but there it is. Plus, there are bigger points later in the story top get to. Also, I believe in switch!lock, so just because Sherlock topped this time, doesn't mean John won't get his chance...**


	13. Unseen, Unheard, and In Turn

**Author's Note: There was one very good question in my reviews that asked, about what's going to happen to Victor now? And you fell right into the question I wanted you to think about. So, the question is, what **_**about**_** Victor? And another: What exactly is Mary up to lately? I hope you enjoy this chapter and R&amp;R!**

* * *

Thirteen: Unseen, Unheard, and in Turn, Not Thought of…

Victor tried to keep his breath in check while he was walking from his parked bike to go see Sherlock. He couldn't sleep, and he had questions about certain subjects. But what he hadn't realized was that Sherlock was also restless, and once he had gotten there, Sherlock was already gone. Victor caught a glimpse of Shezza before he returned to his own vehicle and revved the engine, speeding off after him.

Although, Victor didn't have a fancy Mustang, he had his motorcycle, and he loved the hell out of it. He leaned forward slightly as he tried to speed up a bit for the time being, and once Sherlock was a good distance to be followed at, Victor slowed a bit. He wondered where Sherlock was going.

Usually Sherlock didn't drive like this unless he had a destination. And when he's restless, he doesn't really have one. But not tonight apparently. And once Victor did find out where Sherlock was going, he started taking other routes to stay after Sherlock, but so he wouldn't be seen or heard. He wanted to hear this, but he wanted Sherlock to have no idea he was there…

o0o

So there he stood, listening to the things Mary and John exchanged and he grinned as he had better hearing in his hiding spot than Sherlock did. But he didn't doubt that Sherlock heard it all anyway. But once Mary left, Victor's heart beat almost drowned out anything he could have heard.

But he managed, picking up their conversation, and he had to say, he hated John a little less with what he had said. But that hatred flared again, when he realized what was happening, and he almost screamed. All he could do, though, was heave uneven, shaky and furious breaths. He rubbed his eyes to make sure that was what he was seeing was actually happening, and his heart sank to his Vans when the door of John's flat closed, both of them inside.

Victor blinked back tears and was about to just go home and approach the subject tomorrow when he had the chance, because there was no way in hell Sherlock was getting away with this. But then he heard a voice behind him.

He sniffed, jumping from what he heard, "Do you see that? Sadly, the enemy is never the one to betray you," she tsked and Victor just blinked as her figure was illuminated by the street lamp not five feet away. She came from the shadows, as did Victor.

"Mary. What do you want?" he asked, not being rude, just tired. He hadn't realized getting your heart ripped out word by word could be so tiring.

"The same thing you want: to be free of emotions," she shrugged. And Victor noticed that she was a bit drunk, as her stance was a bit wavy and her eyes were red and half closed, as if she was trying to stay awake for something. "I know how to. Get rid of emotions, I mean," she suggested and he eyed her, his green eyes looking her up and down and she smiled at how prettily the yellow swirled about the green around his iris.

_Why couldn't Sherlock appreciate those eyes? _Mary didn't know, but what she did know, was that she had the solution to this. Although she was sure that Victor had probably never considered what she was about to give him. And when he had to ask, "What exactly would that be, then?" he shoved his hands in his jean's pockets and swayed to the balls of his feet, and back again, standing still. Mary grinned sloppily.

"Here…" and she pulled his hand from his pocket to press something cold to the palm of it, "first few times are on me," she smiled and he gawked at what was in his hand…

Line Break

Sherlock was concerned, deeply. He hadn't seen Victor all day, and he knew he didn't have the right to be worried, but something was up. Plus, he had to talk to Victor, so he had to find him. Maybe he's sick? No, he would have shown some sort of sign of it. Does he know about…? Unlikely, Sherlock didn't think he knew. Unless he was as observant as Mary, and that chance was, no offense to Victor, but very slim.

So then where was he? Surely he wouldn't stay home? He hated being in the flat. Then again, both his parents were working today and his mum won't be home until after school. He pulled John by the arm after the last bell had rung, and drug him out to Shezza. "What the hell are you doing?!" John was irritated, as he had been talking to Mike outside, but then Sherlock came over and just pulled him away.

John was thrust into the passenger seat before Sherlock said, "Victor wasn't here today." And John was about to say something but Sherlock cut him off by leaning close and saying, "We're going to see what happened," Sherlock explained and John settled with a sigh, shoving his things to his feet, as he always does, and clicking the belt over his shoulders.

"Please tell me that if he's hurt in some way, you won't leave him," John begged. "I know we talked about what we were going to do about… what happened. But if he needs you, don't leave him like that- Sherlock, are you listening?" and instantly John knew he had said something wrong.

"Shut up," was all he said before the engine turned and they were off to try to see what Victor was up to that he couldn't come to school…

Line Break

Victor didn't really want to use it at first, but now that he properly thought about it, he wished that he wasn't thinking about what he was. It was either, he used it and risked getting addicted, or worse, dying. Or he didn't, and he have these feelings engulf him whole.

Tears fell from his cheeks. _She was right. It hurts, and it's all your fault… _he gave in, and the needle sunk deep into the vein he had picked out in case he wanted to do this, and it turns out he did. Deep down, he knew, _You did this to me, now we both pay for it… _and he slumped to the floor in front of his bed, leaning against the mattress and box spring, injecting the liquid and pulling the shiny needle out again.

He sighed, letting the tears come to a stop as he was completely numbed of everything he didn't want in the first place. And he just kept going like that all day, injecting more and more little by little, and wishing he could just have it all and get it over with. Tears were shed every hour, and sometimes within minutes of each other.

He hated looking like this, hated feeling weak. But what else was he to do with the emotions he had bottled up before, and now they spilled uncontrollably over him. There had been doubt when Sherlock and Victor had first gotten together, and he had buried it, thinking he was stupid for having it. But now it resurfaced and hurt more than anything.

Although, it wasn't doubt anymore, it was simple knowledge. He knows now, that he wasn't loved, and that he never will be. _Must be why you never said you loved me…_ And suddenly he felt drowsy. So he tried to let himself sleep, and it would have been dreamless. He wanted to leave this place, but someone stopped him from going completely.

His brows furrowed in anger and he growled at whoever wanted to wake him up. He kept hearing his name, but he didn't care. He wanted to sleep. "No… Victor, don't go to sleep! John, help me!" Sherlock demanded. _Sherlock… _

"Leave me alone!" he shouted, and rolled over on the floor, trying to sleep. And Sherlock persisted as Victor's eyes finally closed, and he was able to doze.

"Don't leave, Victor, don't-" he begged but was cut off by Victor's sudden outburst.

"SHUT UP! GO AWAY, AND LEAVE ME ALONE!" and that was what made Sherlock stop, and Victor settled back into the carpet, finally falling asleep as Sherlock watched his friend leave him…

Line Break

Both John and Sherlock knew what it meant when Victor suddenly fell asleep, and Sherlock watched his breathing slow as he knew that even if he called 999 or someone, Victor would only be a dead body by then. So all he did was kneel in front of his friend, and tears spilled over as John couldn't stand having Sherlock look like this.

But he couldn't judge, because he was standing with his hip at Sherlock's shoulder, and tears were slowly but surely making their way down John's own cheeks as well. John also knew that by the time he called anyone, Victor wouldn't be Victor anymore. So when he did step out to call, he reported a dead friend instead of someone who needed attention.

He had difficulty getting it out, though. And the person on the other line was sympathetic, but that still didn't help. With the guilt, the sadness of losing a friend, and even with anger at himself, John collapsed on the floor beside Sherlock. The one who was cradling his arms into his stomach and rocking with sobs.

This wasn't what either of them wanted, and they hadn't even expected it to happen, but it had, and now they had no idea what to do as some weird and unknown officer came in and declared this a crime scene. And then there was shouting as Sherlock recognized it as Victor's mother.

"John…" Sherlock suddenly sniffed and wiped at his face, "I'm going home, and I'm taking you with me. Call or text your mum or whatever, but I need you," he said and John nodded, stunned and trying to control himself. But Sherlock was officially the stronger one in this, and it made no sense, yet It was true.

Sherlock drug John back out to Shezza as John texted his mum, saying he was staying at Sherlock's for the night. He'd tell her in the morning about… happenings, if she didn't already hear by then. Mrs. Trevor ran past the two boys and didn't stop to ponder why they were here, just ran to her son's room as the two exited.

_Shittiest day of my life… Why today?..._

* * *

**I'm such a bitch... oh well. Guess you guys know what Mary's been up to now, don't you? Reviews? Haha, possibly rants? **


	14. No Guilt, and No Shame, Only Reason

**A/N: Evirliena (Ever- lean- a) Just to make sure you don't get tripped up at her name. **** R&amp;R readers, I look forward to it!**

* * *

Fourteen: No Guilt and No Shame, Only Reason

Sherlock mumbled John's name into his chest as tears fell from both of them. But it didn't matter if they cried now, as they were safe in the confines of Sherlock's room, and John was trying to soothe both of them. But it failed miserably as they just kept falling back into sobs and weeping on each other.

Night was slowly but surely setting in as they simply stripped everything but their pants and slept like this. Sherlock managed to stop the wet, hot and salty intruders long enough to fall asleep on an already exhausted and knocked out asleep John. He nuzzled into his lover's neck, and fell into a dreamless but despairing sleep…

* * *

"Mary?" she heard as she was shaken awake by her legs, and she looked groggily around herself. She was at home, in her flat, but someone was at her feet, and the foot of her fairly small bed.

Mary sighed and yawned, sitting up and seeing, "Mum?" The woman smiled at her tired daughter, rubbing Mary's ankle under the duvet.

But the smile faded quickly, "Sorry, honey. I heard about that Victor kid and wondered if you two were possibly friends?" she asked and Mary rolled her eyes, getting up from her bed and walking to the kitchen to make coffee for herself, and now, I guess, her mother as well.

"Victor was simply a kid. Death happens to everyone at some point, and he was an idiot who decided to make it happen earlier. No offense to the dead," Mary corrected if she had said anything wrong, and her mother frowned as the coffee pot was started.

"So, that's really how you feel? You don't feel remorse, or sadness, even?" her mum asked as the woman sat in the chair and stared at her daughter.

"No, not really," the blond young woman sighed and sat at her small kitchen table, across from her mother. "Although, he could have stuck around a bit longer, the money would have been nice," she admitted and her mother's face turned from comforting to horrified that her own daughter would say such a thing.

"How could you say that? He was a human being, a soul, a life, and you treat him as if he was just another source of money?!" she squeaked and Mary shrugged.

"Love and compassion bit me in the ass already, I don't need more. Besides, they aren't needed, and I have other things to be worrying about. Like getting to college after high school to become a doctor," Mary suggested and her mother's jaw dropped. But she closed it again, grinding her teeth and saying nothing. And that's when Mary noticed, "Changed your style. Not wearing…" Mary tilted her head and noted that her mother was dressed in _sweats_ _(?!)_.

Everiliena's hair was pulled back loosely and she was wearing sneakers! Said Evirliena was also void of makeup, and her fingernails weren't shiny, painted still, but not as done as she would have usually had them. And she looked… comfortably beautiful. Mary gaped, but fixed it once her mother grinned, noticing that Mary had finally seen it.

"Yes, I know. Not as dolled up today, I'm afraid. Knowing I was only seeing you, I knew it didn't really matter-"

"You're prettier when you don't cake yourself in makeup and drown yourself in the expenses clothing and shoes," Mary pointed out, noting that the coffee was done now. The blond girl rose, plucking two matching cups down by their handles as the cupboard's doors swung closed again and set the mugs on the counter. She smiled at the fact that she still knew how her mother liked her coffee.

And make them cups of coffee she did, hearing her mother say, "No one's ever said that to me before," and Mary sensed that she was a bit angry at that. Mary smirked, setting down the cups in front of them on the table.

"Why? Because it really is the truth…" she ventured and her mother rose a less tamed than usual brow at her daughter.

"It is?" she asked, almost as if…

"Mother, are you insecure about your looks?" Mary asked seriously.

Her mum bowed her head and Mary's jaw unhinged at that. Mary's mum swept her loose bangs behind her ear again and looked up to her smirking but wide eyed daughter once more. "Well, it's just- no one- I've never-" and she groaned in confusion.

Mary smiled, "If you don't get appreciated for your true beauty, forget the guy. Or girl, if you so chose at the time," and she sipped on her still burning hot coffee. Evirliena simply smiled, getting teary eyed at her daughter's comment/ compliment

"It's just that, one person did tell me that. But now he's…" she left it hanging and Mary knew exactly what the silence meant.

"But now he's gone. As I said, death gets to everyone at some point. No reason to dwell on it too long," and she went back to her coffee as Evirliena finally started on hers. And there they sat, quietly sipping, looking at one another, sometimes smiling, sometimes just blank stares and silence.

And the silence was a silence that was so loud that it started to hurt before Mary said, "I have school, Mum. I gotta get ready," glancing at the clock on the stove.

And her mother's response, "Seriously, Mary," and Mary perked up, listening, "you don't feel sad? Not the least bit? I mean, you were the one that gave him the drugs to overdose with..." _Damned newspaper and knowing when everything happens. If she didn't know, she wouldn't bug me…_

"Drugs are exactly like guns, Mother," Mary reasoned. "I simply gave him the ammunition and he used it all, emptying it into himself and assuring death. I honestly had no intentions for him to die, but he did. Whooptee doo," she rolled her eyes and her mother shook her head, once again shocked at her daughter's absence of care for her classmates…

* * *

Sherlock woke to John already standing beside the bed, getting dressed, and Sherlock sat up, curls everywhere. "And just what do you think you're doing?" Sherlock slurred a bit from drowsiness and John looked over his shoulder at the idiot still in bed.

"We still have school, Sherlock. Get up," he demanded and finished by pulling his jumper over his head and Sherlock groaned.

"I really don't want to, John. Can we just… not? There's a perfectly good park to walk through," Sherlock suggested and John shook his head, sitting on the edge of the bed again.

"No, Sherlock, we really have to go and no playing hooky. Come on," he took Sherlock's hand to help him up, "let's go," and he pulled, Sherlock coming out from under the covers and John just noticed something about his pants. "Purple, Sherlock, really?"

"Well, yours are red, I didn't complain. As a matter of fact- oh, yeah," just remembering they had school. "Never mind," and John's face turned pink.

Sherlock nodded, getting his way with John shutting his mouth and opening the door to his closet, stepping in for a moment. Then coming back out and John was surprised at how fast he could get dressed. But school was a different story of complete surprise…

o0o

Sherlock sat munching an apple over two pages of notebook paper under his gaze as John sat down himself, a full plate of food instead of just a piece of fruit. He was just about to complain to Sherlock to eat more, but then he noticed what Sherlock was actually reading.

"Sherlock, what are those?" and he meant to grab them. But Sherlock's hand snatched his wrist before he could reach them.

"You'll get your chance to read them, John," and he took another bite, chewing and swallowing the sweet piece of red as John's brows furrowed in deep concern.

"Yes, but what are they?" John asked and Sherlock gave him a look under his lashes.

"Notes, John," he said simply and Sherlock folded the papers as they were before, and they were slipped back into his back pocket as he finished off the apple in his hand.

"Notes? From who?" Jahnsked, suspecting they had to do with Victor. That sent a pang of guilt to his heart, and he instantly dropped his gaze to his food, starting on it and listening as Sherlock answered.

"I don't know," he admitted, hating all three words of it. "I was trying to decipher the handwriting, but it's no one I've passed notes with before. And with that, I'm actually worried about who knows about… certain events," he left it hanging and John was slow, but he picked up on what it was.

"Oh, oh! Oh, wow! Yeah, that's…" he smiled nervously as he tried to occupy his mouth with food instead of saying what he wanted to. And that's when he heard a bang on the table and Sherlock's arms dropped over the middle as his body bent over, his head landing into said arms.

John stared, slowly raising his fork to his mouth again, and hastily taking a bite, as if Sherlock might look up and him eating was something he shouldn't do. But Sherlock didn't look up, instead, his hand fell with his palm facing up and John tilted his head at it, wondering if-

And that's when Sherlock's hand moved towards John's unoccupied hand, and John smiled through his munching and sadness. He laced his fingers through Sherlock's and their wrists hit the table as Sherlock sighed.

He was simply hiding his emotions again, as this time they were displayed across his features. So all he could do was hide his face. He couldn't even stop himself from showing the emotion on his face, but he hid them, hiding his face in turn. And John just now noticed this and his plate was thrown in the garbage before he let go of Sherlock's hand.

As Sherlock looked up, confused, John walked over to the other side of the table, wrapping his arm around Sherlock's waist and leaning on his shoulder. "It's fine, Sherlock. I'm here," he promised, burying his head in Sherlock's neck and feeling the curls tickle his ear.

"It's not fine, John. You are here," he admitted, "but it's not fine, and it won't be. Do promise me one thing, though?" and John leaning closer, nodding and humming in question. "Promise you won't leave. Even if I do something idiotic or heartbreaking. Stay with me? I _know_ it sounds selfish, but I _really_ can't deal with another…" he choked on his own words and felt one tears escape his temporarily hated and emotional face and John sighed, sitting beside his friend on the bench.

"Sherlock, I promise not to leave. Even if you are an insufferable git," and Sherlock smiled through the now free flowing tears. But he felt John's on his neck, and knew he wasn't alone, at least not anymore…

* * *

**Hope you enjoyed, and I know, Mary's mum's name is a bit weird, but I made it myself, so... and the IE? that's the German way to spell and pronounce things. I don't know why, but I felt like making it like that... :-)**


	15. The Tables Turning Feels Strange

**A/N: Sorry to be a big disappointment, but this whole chapter turned out to be a huge lemon... R&amp;R, I guess. But I promise more of the story line in the next chapter. I promise... :-)**

* * *

Fifteen: The Tables Turning Feels Strange

John sagged into his covers, and resorted to laying down as Sherlock paced John's bedroom. Both of their parents had agreed for Sherlock to stay over at John's, as they all knew why. They all thought it was such dreadful business, the death of a best friend, and decided to allow Sherlock and John to stay around one another until this emotional matter was resolved.

And as Sherlock paced, his feet dragging along the carpet and his hands and fingers in a prayer's stance over his lush bottom lip, John wondered if their parents knew about Sherlock and John. And suddenly the very deep and very determined voice broke John's chain of thoughts. "John, I need you," he said, his hands falling to his sides and John sitting up.

"Well, I'm here, I'm always-"

"No, John," Sherlock steps into John's personal space, whispering hotly into his ear, "I _need_ you," and John's face flushed. _Do you mean…?_ _No, surely not, my mum is right downstairs-_ "_Please_, John. I've been aching to know what it feels like to have you inside me. And it's the perfect _distraction_," lick… "Seeing as all our other work is done. Homework and such," he nipped at John's ear and the blond whimpered under Sherlock's breath. All of this was true…

"Sherlock," John gulped and pulled back, his arousal already growing and Sherlock looked into that confused expression. "Have you ever even-"

And he was cut off by Sherlock huffing, "If you want the truth about it, you're the first person I've ever even made out with, so take that into consideration and realized just how much," he positioned himself over John's aching lap, "I want you to fill me," and John gasped at Sherlock's teeth being on his neck, biting just enough to make a mark and leave a bit of saliva, quickly cooling over John's even quicker heating skin.

"Sherlock, you could have told me-"

Again with being cut off, "Talking takes too much away from the fun times, John. So do shut up and take me. You know you want to," he reasoned and John shivered at how low and seductive Sherlock's voice could be if he tried.

"Mum's right downstairs- fuck, Sherlock!" Sherlock's hips ground into John's to stop his protesting and John decided he had enough. He took Sherlock by the shoulders and pinned him to the covers, then taking his wrists and pushing them to the pillows. His thighs straddled Sherlock's hips, making sure he couldn't move.

Sherlock grinned and John wiped that grin from his face with a wet kiss to those lips that he's longed to kiss for so long. He returned the torture by rubbing their groins together and Sherlock shuttered, wanting all that John could give.

John's tongue poked teasingly at Sherlock's before his mouth moved from Sherlock's own and to his jaw line, leaving another open mouthed and wet kiss. Then on to his neck, _so easily markable_. John licked down to the dip in Sherlock's skin over his collar bone and nipped, extracting another gasp, and a rock of Sherlock's hip into his own. John held tighter with his thighs, preventing Sherlock from moving or squirming anymore.

His fingers felt over the leather on Sherlock's one hand, and he smirked, knowing just how to tease his lover now. John's lips let go of Sherlock's skin as he sat up and situating his ass right over Sherlock's groin, making it obvious that he was teasing. He lifted Sherlock's digits to his mouth, licking and nipping at Sherlock's fingertips, then moving to the leather bound to his palm and the back of his hand, including a bit of his wrist.

He still had the other hand pinned, but with the hand he was holding, he teased by hooking his canine under the leather, grazing over Sherlock's skin and making him huff in the displeasure of that being pleasurable. A few of John's other teeth joined, stripping Sherlock's hand slowly of the leather, and whipping it to the floor, and Sherlock was achingly harder. Not yet completely aroused, but so close to it.

John chuckled, pinning the hand again and going back to Sherlock's neck, sucking hard at where Sherlock's neck met his shoulder. He definitely left a good mark before he motioned for Sherlock to sit up, sitting himself in the exact same spot he had before, right over Sherlock's aching cock.

Sherlock hated that John knew exactly where that laid in his pants, too. Sherlock's jacket was stripped, thrown to the floor, and his shirt went as well. And the moment was almost ruined when they had to move to get their shoes and socks off. But John didn't let that happen, and he pounced once again, pinning both of Sherlock's wrists in his one hand. And the other? The other danced about Sherlock's exposed chest and torso.

Feather light touches went around his nipples, brushing over the spot over Sherlock's naval and avoiding every very pleasurable spot they could. John didn't even have his jumper off, and he was deliciously teasing. _Damn you, Watson…_ John realized that Sherlock was eyeing his jumper in hatred and he smiled, pulling it over his head, and deciding to undo enough buttons of his button down to pull that over as well, and Sherlock's lips twitched upward, being licked in anticipation. John reclaimed Sherlock's hands as he purposefully gyrated his hips into Sherlock's groin.

Sherlock groaned, whispering John's name as if it was a last wish, and John just grinned, placing open mouthed kisses along Sherlock's neck and shoulders. His hand went back to wandering as his mouth captured Sherlock's once again, moaning into him, knowing it would vibrate into his tongue, and knowing just how much Sherlock liked that.

And the wandering hand making Sherlock moan as well, as it slipped under Sherlock's swiftly undone jeans, palming him through his pants. John loved feeling that bundle of heat in his hand, knowing it meant he was doing well and getting Sherlock harder than anything else on this planet. And John's touches were what made Sherlock completely and achingly so much harder.

John let go of Sherlock's wrists, smirking at the faint red marks his fingertips made because Sherlock was struggling to get them free. His hands were instead onto Sherlock's jeans, zipping the zipper so slowly that Sherlock swore he could have cum right there, at the sound of the teeth of his trousers splitting apart just for his lover. John smirked when Sherlock writhed and tried to get friction between his erection and John's fingers. But he had no such luck, as John's hands were already at his knees, pulling down the jeans, and soon they were over his ankles, then the floor.

Sherlock swallowed hard, "J-Jo-oh-n," he stuttered and John just shook his head at how impatient Sherlock can be sometimes. So he decided to tease even more with this. Sherlock was wearing blue pants this time, a deep navy blue that John loved on his pale skin. And the bulge under the fabric only made them sexier.

He breathed over the member's heat, making Sherlock all but moan. John tugged Sherlock's head free, licking at it lightly, so lightly that Sherlock could barely feel it, making his imagination take him further. Which was what John wanted for him to do. Then John placed a final kiss to Sherlock's head. Then, kneeling over Sherlock's hips, he undid his own trousers, pulling them down to his knees.

Once again, he was straddling Sherlock, and his own head was poking out by default as both of theirs rubbed together and John stripped the jeans entirely, the heap of denim landing on the floor and Sherlock grabbing John's hips so hard his fingertips were white.

Sherlock _made_ John grind into him, and John finally moaned, leaning over Sherlock. John nibbled on Sherlock's paled white skin and he moaned as well in response. "And…" John gulped down air, "you're sure about this?" he asked in a huff and Sherlock nodded, whining, and not being able to say anything. He wanted John so _badly_.

John nodded, "Okay, okay. Okay," he kept trying to reassure himself, and Sherlock's fingernails now cutting into his skin reminded him that Sherlock really did want this. John leaned over Sherlock completely, putting his hands on either side of Sherlock's head, nuzzling into his curls and licking at the skin under the line of them, grinding into Sherlock once again before the younger boy decided that was enough of the pants.

Sherlock pulled his and John's pants down harshly and when they met at their knees, he pulled both pairs off together and they floated to the floor as Sherlock and John were brilliantly presented to each other. Sherlock was so pale that it carried to his penis, making it look beautiful as it stood under John's groin. John couldn't get enough of how amazingly stunning Sherlock always looked, everywhere on his body, and anywhere on this earth.

But Sherlock admired John's member as well, as it was paler than his well toned body, but it was still the colour of himself , instead of being some other awkward shade of pink or light brown or something like that.

Well, that wasted enough time, and John regained himself from his thoughts as he remembered that he was aching. So much so that it was starting to hurt. He dug through the bedside table's drawer, presenting himself with a condom and the same small bottle of lubricant from last time. Sherlock grinned, taking the condom from John's fingers as John had done last time, and while John occupied himself with the lubricant, Sherlock again repeated what John had done the first time.

And Sherlock's fingers on John's erection felt wonderful, but John's fingertips at Sherlock's entrance were cooled by lube and they felt awesomely delightful circling the tight ring of muscle. Sherlock groaned, wanting John to just shove those fingers inside him, and soon after, his cock. But he kept himself distracted, stroking at John and making him shiver while he made Sherlock's muscles relax under his magic touch.

"That's it, John…. take me," Sherlock whispered into John's ear, making John whimper as his digit breached Sherlock's entrance, making Sherlock moan and wriggle, wanting more of John in him, more of John around him, more of John kissing him.

He took John's mouth in his own as the moans and groans vibrated into John's tongue from the work he was doing at Sherlock's entrance. Sherlock's body was surprisingly accepting as John plunged the digit further, and eventually all the way in and Sherlock gasped when it just barely brushed over a certain spot.

John smirked through the kiss, pushing his fingertip into that one spot, and making Sherlock gasp moans into his mouth. John then added another finger, exploring the walls that are Sherlock. That are his lover, his forever and always…

John's name was moaned several times before John briefly added another finger before they were all pulled out, leaving Sherlock pining for more. John lubed himself up and bit his lip at the pleasure of touching himself. Sherlock had felt so hot, and tight, and he wanted that around himself so much more than his own hand.

Sherlock's arms wrapped around John's waist, pulling him closer so that John's head was brushing against the entrance that was just begging to be penetrated by something bigger than three fingers. Sherlock's cock was smushed in between their flush bodies as Sherlock moaned.

"You really are sure?" John panted and Sherlock rolled his eyes, digging his heels into the backs of John's thighs, making him jump and rub himself onto the outer ring of Sherlock's anus.

"I am _soooo_ sure," he agreed, humming in approval when John had to move again, and his cock rubbed again. Sucking in a breath, John pushed his head through Sherlock's entrance and winced at how stretched Sherlock looked around him. But when Sherlock moaned loudly, it wasn't out of pain, so John pushed deeper, slowly going all the way to his hilt. They fit together perfectly, just as last time. Not exactly the same position, but the same feeling of being joined, and quite perfectly.

Sherlock's calves landing on the back of John's thighs and John's thighs rubbing against the backs of Sherlock's created the most delicious friction that made Sherlock pull John's head down for more wet and hungry tongue to be exchanged. This also made John slip a little out of Sherlock, making him choke out a small and high pitched noise that made John realize that he should probably move if this was going to go anywhere.

And John did move, slowly at first, noting what it had felt like for him, and not wanting Sherlock to be more in pain than anything. Sherlock was so intriguingly sensitive and responsive, giving little huffs and moans every time John moved. John picked up the pace a little when he realized that Sherlock was whispering for him to go faster, and possibly harder.

He could barely hear Sherlock saying his name in such a low voice, though, because the blood pumping through his veins made everything about his body louder, especially the moans he gave and the whispered, _"Sherlock,"_ at some points.

Sherlock's legs gripped tighter when John had slipped a bit and bumped into Sherlock's prostate, sending signals through his body like thunder and lightning. Sherlock felt it crackle over him and a moment later his body registered it as pleasurable sensation and gave John a moan. John grinned, staying in that position, and moving just a little faster and in turn, rocking harder into the spot he found, drawing out long and loud noises from Sherlock's throat.

John's lips captured Sherlock's again as Sherlock had demanded for John to, "Get down here and kiss me!" so he did. Wet, hot tongue.. wet, heated noises.. and blinding white pleasure filled the two as sadly, but amazingly, a climax was being reached, and they both felt it. John's hand wandered again, fingers wrapping around the base of Sherlock's member, using the profusely dripping pre-ejaculate and coating Sherlock's thickening erection in it, from tip to base, and back again.

He timed the strokes after every thrust of his hips, making Sherlock confused as to what noise his body wanted to make next. And he settled on John's name as he knew he couldn't hold it back anymore, his vision blurring with the familiar and sensationally blinding white as cum spilled from his dick and all over John's hand and his own abdomen.

Upon hearing his name, Sherlock's release and feeling Sherlock clench around him tighter than ever, John found himself hit by an orgasm that was powerful enough to make him completely limp, falling over Sherlock and panting until his vision restored itself.

He was still seated in Sherlock when he found that his brunette lover was laughing, telling John to get up so they could clean themselves up. John nodded, moving slowly from Sherlock and sitting up on the edge of the bed, pulling the condom free of his penis and tying it off before throwing it in the can at his bedside. "Think you can walk? It'd be _much_ easier to just clean up in the shower," John suggested, gaining back his breath.

He had remembered that it had taken him a few hours himself to get up on his feet after Sherlock had taken him, and it didn't hurt per say. It was just… an unusual feeling, you know? One of being completely full of someone one minute and then the next they're simply gone. "I think I can manage, John," Sherlock said, sitting up and John smiled, hoping that was the case. He would feel terribly guilty if it wasn't.

John licked at his surprisingly dry lips, "Right, okay," and Sherlock placed a kiss over said lips.

"Come, love," he said, pulling himself from John's bed, and attempting to stand…

* * *

**A/N: One huge, juicy, smutty lemon. I warned you...**


	16. Trying To Take A Break

Sixteen: Trying To Take A Break

John groggily woke to Sherlock leaning over the edge of his bed and hunching over, studying something. "Sher? What are you doing?" he asked, and he almost panicked about how late it was, but remembered that today was Friday, and they had a three day weekend.

"Notes, John," he repeated from yesterday.

"Huh?" John was confused as he sat up. Sherlock turned to him, presenting two pieces of small cut notebook paper.

"The notes. And they irk me, because all I can deduce is that she used a fountain pen," and John tilted his head in more confusion.

"She?" he asked, _as if one could tell another's gender by their handwriting? Yeah right, is that even possible?_

"Obviously," Sherlock replied, and John realized who he was talking to.

"Obviously," John repeated in a low voice that said he was just tired of everything anymore.

"Here, you said you wanted to read them," Sherlock said, handing John the notes and moving to pace the room as he had done last night. Except this time he wasn't fidgeting from being turned on. Now he was just pacing, thinking.

One was short, simple, and the other was short as well, but not as simple. The notes, I mean. John read them to himself: _I owe you, Sherlock I really do…_ And then there was: _I will burn the heart out of you… _and they were both signed with only an M. "What does she mean, _'I owe you…'_?" John asked as Sherlock threw his hands up in defeat.

"I don't know!" he exhaled deeply through his nose and calmed, "I don't know, okay? I hate not knowing. God, it feels so frustrating!" and John laughed. "This is what it's like for you? Not knowing things?" and John didn't take it as an insult, as Sherlock was known to compare everyone else to him and his intelligence.

"Yes, Sherlock. It is frustrating, but other people just deal with it," he pointed out and Sherlock glared at him.

"You know full well that I am not 'other people', John. I am an individual and would like to not be grouped with 'the normal people' or the 'awkward ones'. I am Sherlock Holmes," he defended and John just laughed again.

"A category in of itself, huh?" John asked cheekily and Sherlock scowled at the boy who was getting up from the bed and making his way to the younger yet taller other. "That's okay. It just makes you so much more lovable," John complimented and Sherlock rolled his eyes at the attempt of being sweet.

Well, it was sweet, but Sherlock really just didn't care at the moment. "Lovable isn't a word I'd use to describe myself. But you can think what you like," he said and John frowned. But he didn't press the issue.

Instead, he turned his attention to the notes in his hand. They were small, being cut out into squares and all, but they were definitely on lined notebook paper. It was strange and he put them in front of Sherlock and himself as he hugged Sherlock from behind, wrapping his arms around the brunette's waist.

Sherlock accepted, looking at the handwriting again as he felt John's chin on his shoulder, looking over it. Sherlock's hand instantly went to John's, holding the papers and his thumb unconsciously stroking over John's own. John smiled and repeated, "So, female, fountain pen. Anything else?" he asked and Sherlock shook his head.

John put a kiss to his curls before moving to in front of him. "That's alright," he said trying to be reassuring for Sherlock. Even though he was sure it probably didn't work. His arms hung from Sherlock's shoulders and his hips were loosely connected to Sherlock's as Sherlock still studied the notes John had returned to him.

"It's not alright, John. This is… I don't even know what this is, but I know it's something bad. I just-" and he was cut off by a kiss to those beautiful lips. "I-"

"Shut up, Sherlock," and John took advantage of Sherlock's mouth being open slightly from trying to speak and his tongue slipped through, touching Sherlock's enough to taste him, but not enough to let Sherlock push him out again by force.

No, and this time when their tongues met, it was because Sherlock shoved his into John's mouth, but they both sighed along with a small noise of contentment. Sherlock suddenly felt as if John was the only thing keeping him from freaking out because he couldn't figure this out. But Sherlock also knew this was a good thing. It meant that John knew, too, and he felt needed, something he hadn't felt in so long.

Knock, hesitation before the second knock, and then the third knock, "John?" they broke apart instantly after the second knock and John blushed as his mum opened the door to reveal the two still standing very closely. Sherlock really didn't care if John's mum decided to catch them kissing, or possibly worse. It was bound to happen anyway. As a matter of fact, with how loud last night got, he was surprised it hadn't happened sooner.

She smiled, but stepped in once and explained that she had a lot to do today, but there was stuff downstairs to make breakfast and that they shouldn't wander too far from home, and if they do go out, obviously take a house key.

John nodded, and Sherlock scampered to get out the door. "I have a change of clothes in Shezza, I'll be right back. I suggest you get dressed as well," and he was off out the house while John's mum left right after him, giving John some privacy to change.

A few minutes after John was dressed and looking through to see if anyone had texted or something last night, Sherlock emerged, not caring if John was done or not. And upon seeing that he was, closed the door and flopped down beside john on the bed. "So, are we going anywhere today? After we eat, of course," John said finally looking up and seeing Sherlock beside him.

"Depends, is just a walk fine with you? I haven't had a good long walk in a good long time," he smiled and John shrugged, shutting down his phone.

"Alright," he agreed and Sherlock was pulling John off the bed and downstairs to eat, as Sherlock knew John wouldn't go anywhere with an empty stomach.

Once they were finished (John made Sherlock eat, obviously) they were finally out the door. And now that Sherlock was sure that no one would hear him, "John, I have an idea for tonight," he said and John eyed him, wondering what Sherlock could possibly be thinking.

"Yes?" he prompted and Sherlock inhaled deeply and exhaled again.

"Well, I kinda wanted to do something, like… a movie er… something?" and John made him stop.

"Are you asking me out on a date?" he asked, and his smile spread when Sherlock blushed a little and looked to the ground.

"I'm not really good with these things, but I guess so. Something to get our minds away from everything lately. It's all turning to shit, so I figured we could do something, you know, that wouldn't turn out being bollocks in the end," Sherlock explained quickly and John had a hard time keeping up, but he managed.

"So, you're asking me to the movies with you?" John asked in confirmation.

"Sure, if that's what you want to do. I hear they're playing something a little older tonight at the theatre somewhat near the school. I know, sounds crappy practically going back to school, but-"

"Let's do it, then. What movie, by the way?" John asked and Sherlock was stunned a bit. But that melted once he saw John's smile and he grinned in return.

"Shaun of the Dead," and John grinned as well.

"That one's one of my favourites," he admitted and took Sherlock's hand and lacing their fingers together. "But I'm pretty sure we were supposed to be walking," and they started up again as Sherlock couldn't hold back the smile he had. Except when he thought of Victor, and suddenly his heart and head dropped.

How could he just move on so soon after his boyfriend had died? It just seemed so rude and heartless to completely forget him and go with John instead. Although it would have broken Victor even more to hear a break up coming from Sherlock's mouth, at least he would have been alive. And what's more is Victor died probably thinking he wasn't loved, which wasn't true. Even if Sherlock couldn't love someone else besides himself, Victor was still a lovely person and Sherlock felt terrible for- "Sherlock, you okay?"

"Yeah, fine, just… thinking," which wasn't a complete lie. And John knew better than to believe that, but he also knew better than to argue, so he just kept quiet while Sherlock made sure his emotions were buried and everything could be better now. Anyway, what's done is done, and it won't ever change, will it?

No, he just had to deal with it, no matter how hard the dealing will be…

* * *

"Oi! You have your own!" John complained as Sherlock stole a handful of his popcorn and Sherlock just grinned.

He munched and decided to really be a tease by leaning to John's ear after swallowing and whisper, "Yes, I do have my own, but yours tastes so much better," and John blushed instantly.

"Down boy," John playfully slapped Sherlock's thigh and Sherlock retaliated with even more.

"Oh, I like that. Hit me harder," and John's face could have passed for an apple as the previews finally started.

"Sherlock, please stop," John outright begged quietly, and Sherlock smiled, licking the shell of John's ear and settling.

But before it was completely silent, he muttered, "Begging gets you nowhere in the life, John," and John really wanted to hit him for that. The girl sitting beside them was so disturbed by their flirting that she switched places with a friend who really didn't give a shit, and the two chuckled at that.

They knew it wasn't the fact that they were two boys. No it was the fact that through all of that, Sherlock's hand was practically on the seat of John's trousers and she was afraid they might start doing something… a lot worse during the movie. It was still funny to see her move while her cheeks burned…

* * *

**I tried getting back to the storyline, I really did. And I promise I'll try harder next time, but I really was into getting some fluffy stuff out this time around after all the smut... I hope you liked it anyway.**


	17. Oh, Stupid, Stupid!

Seventeen: Oh, Stupid, Stupid!

John only needed the loo, that was it and that was all, but once he had stepped over to the sinks to wash his hands, he saw a little folded piece of paper that hadn't been there before. On the wall, neatly stuck beside the soap dispenser. He was curious, but he took his time washing his hands and drying them before he cautiously lifted the flap to see the words written there.

It was the same handwriting as before, except this time, all it said was: _Let the games begin._ And it was signed with the same M as before and John's blood ran cold. _How could this possibly even be- how did she- what?! _So he plucked the paper from the wall, as it was attached with only scotch tape. He folded the top back so that the tape held it open with the words easily readable and he couldn't stop gawking at it as he finally sat by Sherlock again.

"John?" he nudged John's shoulder, then looked to the paper in his hands. Same as the other, in a little square, except it was folded back and Sherlock noticed that there was tape holding it like that. "John, where did you find this?" he said, taking it from John's slightly shaky fingers.

"In the loo, after I walked out to wash my hands, it was just there. I don't understand, what's with-" and upon realizing they didn't have a name yet, "whoever this is?" he asked quietly, knowing other people might complain if they were talking during the movie.

"I'm not sure, John. Wait, look at the G. The way it curves and crosses at the bottom and then back into itself. This particular person is intelligent, seems to be alarmingly so. And this handwriting isn't just neat. It's slow and thoughtful, you can see the pauses in between each letter and the even longer ones in between each word, as if they're trying to take their time. Almost as if this person wants it to look good and doesn't want to rush like they normally do.

"Although, the handwriting of a genius is atrocious, I would know. Mostly because your hand can't keep up with your thoughts, so I don't blame them. But no, this is neat and this person wants us to think they're elegant and elegance is usually found in females, but from this, I'm not sure if it's a female anymore." And John gawked, wondering how the hell he got all that from handwriting. It was just words! Even the girl sitting beside them had her jaw dropping, and she couldn't even see the note.

"Do you study these kinds of things as a hobby or something?" John asked, truly curious as to how the fuck someone gets that much from the strokes another puts to a page as their handwriting.

"No, John it's just… obvious. Don't you see it? I bet if you looked to the back some of the letters will be slightly raised from the effort of making this look good," and surely enough when he looked to the back, he was correct. Although, it was only with a few of the letters, it still showed effort. Like with the way the T's were crossed, because usually one would just scrape over the letter like it was nothing, but this person didn't want it to look messy.

Also, this person is left-handed, as the ink is smudged a bit at the beginning. "John, I can't do this, we need to leave," Sherlock said suddenly getting up and dragging John and himself out of the theatre.

"But," John was about to complain, but then he realized he was about to argue with a Holmes, and that was a lost cause. "Sherlock," John warned, looking over the brunette's shoulder and just now realizing there was someone there.

"Yes, John?" he asked, his brows furrowing in confusion as he followed John's worried gaze.

"I finally found you again," and Sherlock turned to see those harsh brown eyes that he had seen before and never wanted to see again. Then he turned and whispered to John that they needed to get away, now, and John simply nodded, knowing that if Sherlock wanted to run, this was definitely bad.

"Nice meeting you again, but, um, I gotta dash. Bye," and he took John's hand, lacing their fingers to make sure he couldn't be left behind, and they took off. Down the sidewalk, and on and on until Sherlock saw the safety of Shezza in front of John's flat. And they were up the stairs in no time, John locking the door behind the two.

They were both panting out breaths, trying to catch them back as they flopped down on John's bed and Sherlock brought John into a tight embrace, holding his shoulders so tight that it was starting to hurt. Once he was able to speak without being cut off by breathing problems, John asked, "So, who was that, then? No one good, I suspect."

And Sherlock's head shot up as he realized who had given them the notes, "Oh, Stupid," he whispered, then louder, "stupid!" and John stared in bewilderment as he jumped from the bed and his arms flew up in exasperation. "Don't you see?"…

* * *

It was a three day weekend for the people who weren't working, and Mary knew this as she slightly hated it. But she was already used to working when other people weren't. Her habits outside of school and home life proved that much. Like right now.

The man standing before her was disheveled and looked almost homeless, but that was simply because he needed another fix. He was actually wearing just jeans and a shirt, but his hair was everywhere and his hands were shaky, giving him the aura of someone homeless.

He had thanked her before handing her the money and practically skipping down the street in glee. He was obviously someone who wasn't well off, but he also obviously didn't care, as his mind was only focused on the pouch in his hands.

Mary sighed and was about to just go home for the day when there was a man behind her. The twilight was setting in tonight, so it was difficult to tell exactly who it was, but she recognized him immediately, as seeing him every day would do that. "Sir," she nodded and he smiled, he was only eighteen and three years older, but he still had power over her. She hated that, and the sweet smile he seemed to always wear when Mary was around.

"The job is going well, I see," he pointed to the stack of bills she held from about nine people that she had seen today. She shrugged and knowing what he wanted, handed him half of it.

"Well enough. I still don't have enough to get a bike or something so I don't have to walk all over the place, but it's fine. For now," she nodded and he just patted her shoulder in what seemed to be appreciation.

"It'll pay off in the end," he assured her. "Besides, not everyone gets to have two jobs that pay well enough to maintain a flat, especially at the age of fifteen almost sixteen, now do they?" and she shrugged again. She would have had the flat even without the drug selling. But the sales did help her maintain other things around the flat, like cable and the extra electricity that she uses sometimes.

But there was always a downside to having money and slight power, "Not everyone also has a suddenly interested mother because what they're doing is dangerous," Mary retaliated and he just blinked at her.

"You have a mother? You said you were an orphan," he looked down on her and she smiled up in return.

"I may as well have been an orphan, no one paid enough attention to me to have me consider them family," Mary explained and he just tilted his head a bit and sighed in what seemed to be concern.

"No one?" he asked in confirmation and she nodded, looking to the ground and kicking at invisible rocks on the cement.

"Well, I should get home. I have tests and things to study for next week, and I need sleep as well," she made the excuse and started to walk away. She had to control herself before she did something stupid. Something really stupid that she'd wanted to do ever since she started selling for him, but it was always out of the question.

And him speaking again made her stop, "Seriously, though, not a one? Because…" he trailed off and she looked to him, expectant of some kind of explanation as to why he had stopped her from going home. She actually really did want sleep. Too many late ones had been pulled lately.

"Because…?" she prompted and he fidgeted.

"Well," he sighed, as if he was giving in, his shoulders sagging, and it looked a little weird on someone so tall and built fairly decently. He would look menacing if he wasn't looking like an embarrassed child at the moment. "I'll have you know that usually I'm not generous enough to give someone else fifty percent of what their earning from selling. But I give you half of _whatever_ I get, and…."

"And?" then she realized, and she smiled a little. "So you're crushing on me? Your point. It makes no difference," Mary shrugged again and tried to walk away once more, but this time he grabbed her by the shoulder and yanked her back to look up at him, her breath a little unstable as she breathed over his lips. They were so close, but he didn't take advantage, though she expected him to.

"My point, is that I cared for you even before you started selling for me. I know, I graduate this year, but I'm not going anywhere special. I'm even taking online courses instead of going to college with other people. I'm not leaving, and I decided that before I even met you. But you're so…" he searched for the word as his arms wrapped around her waist and pulled her closer. "Intriguingly beautiful," he flattered and she just looked to him in disbelief.

"I- I am?" was all she could get out before he nodded, his small and light brown curls falling out of the light gel he used to tame them sometimes. His large brown eyes seemed determined about something as he stared at her intently. "I'm sorry, I can't," she tried to pull away, but he gripped harder. Not exactly holing her against her will, but keeping her close. If she wanted to slip away, she could.

But she didn't do anything more than stare as he asked, "Can't what?" he asked cockily and she wanted to punch him for that.

"I'm sorry, not after…" she couldn't even say his name, "I'm not ready for a relationship quite yet. I promise that if my heart wasn't so scattered along with my brain, I would do something about this, but I just… can't," and she almost had tears as he frowned sadly and let her go.

But he couldn't stand it, and he held her cheek for a second. So soft and so beautiful, he just had to lean in quickly and steal a kiss. It was quick, chaste and almost not a kiss. Then she reacted and she didn't know why she was doing this, growling, "You really shouldn't have done that," and pushing him to the wall with surprising strength that she hid well under that coat.

"Shouldn't I have?" he challenged and she just harshly whispered for him to shut up. She pressed herself to him and again wondered what was up with her and not thinking straight as she kissed him again, this time, their lips lingering and wishing this moment wouldn't end…

* * *

**Anyone have any ideas on who Sherlock ran from and who Mary was selling from? Hehe, I'll leave you to your deductions and suffering in wait for the next update. 3:)**


	18. You Could Say That

Eighteen: You Could Say That

Mary suddenly pulled off and apologized, but when she was roped back in, she felt her heart beat flutter and she could hear the organ making her blood rush. "Don't be sorry," he demanded and she nodded, blushed, and looked to the cement, wondering why she had apologized in the first place. What was there to apologize for? They both wanted it.

Mary could smell the rain before she could ever see it or feel it. She had even said so to her boss_(/ … lover?)_ She had told him that they should get home before it starts pouring. But he was stubborn, holding and kissing her until the sidewalk started to darken with little drops of soft rain that had started out as a pitter patter.

But they did eventually move from the wall to walk to Mary's home when it had started to really rain. They made it through the door of her flat before they were completely soaked to the bone, but they were still pretty cold and wet. Mary stripped her coat and hung it as he did the same. "Guess I'm staying the night, then?" he asked and Mary shrugged.

"If you wish to. I won't force you to leave, as it is raining. But I won't force you to stay, either," and he grinned.

"Good," and Mary smiled in return. This was going to be a long night, even though she had wanted to sleep. Mary still wanted sleep, but damn did she want him more.

"I'm going to go.. get some towels and a blanket, I'll be right back…"

* * *

John was suddenly pressed to the covers, having heated and open mouthed kisses placed against his neck and part of his jaw. "Sherlock," he whispered to his lover and Sherlock smirked up at him as his hips settled in between the panting blond boy's thighs.

_Curse you for being so goddamn tall and attractive_. But then there was a little buzz in Sherlock's pocket that John felt on his inner thigh. He jumped and Sherlock sighed as there was a ding to be heard after the buzz, signaling it was just a text, but annoyingly distracting all the same.

Sherlock pulled his mobile from his jeans and expected it to be his brother, but the number wasn't recognized as he saw the text underneath. His fingers suddenly felt like jelly as the phone slipped through them and fell into John's open lap.

John scurried to pick it up as he read the screen and froze as well, his knuckles and fingertips becoming white around the phone's frame. "Sh-Sherlock, is this…?" he couldn't even finish and Sherlock took the phone from John's tensed fingers.

"I would think so, John, yes," Sherlock nodded as he read over the short message once more. **This is a fun game, isn't it? Your move… Sherlock Holmes – M **

Then John had to ask the obvious, "What do they mean, your… your move?" his glance went from Sherlock's eyes studying the mobile to the phone and back to Sherlock's furrowed brows as he tried to piece everything together.

"You know full well what it means, John. For once in your life, use the brain you were born with," he insulted and John was stunned at the sudden irritation as the boy sat up from in between John's knees and moved to sit upon the edge of the bed, typing a message back.

John looked over his shoulder to see what he was texting, and in turn, what the reply would be. **First, I must know what move you have made. Indulge me – SH**

The reply they were both awaiting came not seconds after: **Carl laughed at me, so I stopped him from laughing- M**

John held back the urge to give a dramatic gasp, as that would make Sherlock even more irritated and he simply sat back onto his knees. "So, what exactly does this person expect you to do?" John asked, truly wondering what Sherlock was supposed to do about it.

"I don't know, embarrass myself trying to tell the police that it was murder? Which it was, but they won't believe a sixteen year old, will they? No," Sherlock answered his own question for himself and John sighed in concern.

"But if we don't say anything, this idiot will get away with it," John reasoned and Sherlock shrugged.

"I have a feeling that this particular person won't get away with it. But in order for us to do or say anything and have someone believe us, we need to have this person do something else. Attract more attention to themselves," and John would have surprised at this display of pure genius, but this was Sherlock. He would always come spouting things like this and John would always be in awe, standing in his shadow.

Then Sherlock's phone buzzed again in his hand and he simply looked down to his fingers and the next message from the same person. **I must also warn you that your past will be back – M **

**Oh, it'll haunt me, won't it? – SH **_Such an arrogant dick…_

**You could say that… - M **

And Sherlock pondered even more, standing and pacing, again. John looked to the phone, and now even he was trying to figure this out. But then he just moved the mobile to his bedside table and laid down into the covers. "Sherlock, I'm tired. I'm going to bed," he complained and Sherlock sighed, switching off the lights for John.

But he didn't climb back into bed. He just kept pacing, sometimes dragging his feet across the carpet. And other times stopping altogether to mumble to himself, then picking up the pacing again as John really tried to sleep. He knew he was tired, but Sherlock worrying- well, not worrying, but thinking about this, made John irritable and worry all the more about his boyfriend.

"Sherlock, at least come lay down. You can't stay on your feet all night," John said suddenly and Sherlock's shoulders sagged in defeat as he flicked off his socks and shoes, removed his shirt, as he always sleeps without one, and climbed into bed behind John.

He then sighed and just decided to give in, wrapping himself around John, spooning into him as John gave a sigh and a nuzzle to Sherlock's forearm before falling asleep comfortably. Sherlock followed not long after. He was still wondering about this person, but not as much, allowing his body to rest while his mind was still frantic and running about. He couldn't stop thinking about the notes, and now the texts. It boggled him to no end, and he honestly wished it would just go away, the thoughts, I mean.

But he slept, dreamlessly as he always does and cuddled into his favourite person in this entire world. John always kept him right. Kept him here and didn't let him get away and do something extremely stupid. And Sherlock knew he would have done something outrageously so if John hadn't been there for him…

* * *

Mary plopped down on the couch beside him, holding one of her biggest bowls and it was full of popcorn as he had chosen a film for both of them to watch. Even though she knew it was an excuse for him to get closer and closer, eventually getting the closest.

They both knew what was to come _(heh),_ but they both knew that neither of them wanted it to just be fast and hard. Mary vowed to herself that she would make it through the film before she started with the really flirty/dirty things, which she knew she was good at.

Mary's always been good at things that pleased other people. But that also meant that she could piss you off just as easily. And the man she sat beside knew this, but he really didn't care as he threw his arm over her shoulders, not even bothering to be sneaky about it. Besides, he hates clichés, so he just did whatever he wanted, when he wanted.

And that was also why Mary liked him. Because he was so much like her in so many ways. He dressed the way he wanted, did what he wanted and anyone who tried to step on his toes, he would in turn step on theirs. Except it's usually a lot more violent than that, but still.

The man grinned when he thought of how similar he and Mary really were. And his grin split wider with the fact that he could actually consider himself a man now. Sure, he had his last year of high school to finish, but he was free after that. He would then be able to do whatever the hell he wanted, and no one would stop him. Not even his parents will have control over him.

But he also felt terrible that Mary was two years behind himself. And she had to wait longer to feel this kind of freedom. Although, with her running off, getting a job, a flat, then getting into school and finding another job that made her finances more manageable, she already had everything he achieved by now. And he couldn't stop smiling at this fact.

The girl that he was, (no doubt about it), falling head over heels for, was already a woman by her own definition. Which was why he didn't care about her age. Besides, she'll be sixteen soon enough. Just another week and she'll turn sixteen.

He really wanted to help by getting her into driver's ed, or something so she could save even bigger and just get a car, but he knew that she would do this on her own. Mary hated having help, no matter what it was or who it came from. And all these thoughts about each other was what made look to one another and Mary saw that he was already grinning and she smiled up at him in return.

He couldn't help it when he placed a soft and almost chaste kiss to her lips. Then continued pressing soft but gaining slight pressure, kisses to her mouth, then her cheeks and part of her neck. Then he came back up to her lips, giving them the most passionate of all the already given kisses. She accepted, moving her own soft and fluffy lips against his in perfect harmony and wondering why she hadn't tried this before.

Then she realized who she was kissing and instantly knew why she hadn't tried this before. And when they separated all she could whisper was his name. Over and over, and having nothing else to say, she only managed to whisper,

"Victor…"

* * *

**Oh, how I love this twist. This was what I was dying to write and I hope you liked it. :-D And kudos to the one person that guessed it before I updated. You know who you are... :-)**


	19. The Lies Believed But Never Told

Nineteen: The Lies Believed But Never Told

"Sherlock," John nudged his shoulder as he yawned and had sat up beside the fully dressed and pondering boy. "You still didn't tell me who that was yesterday," he brought to Sherlock's attention and Sherlock grunted in slight annoyance.

"Yes," he remembered exactly who John was referring to. "His name is Sebastian Moran. He prefers Lord Moran, though. He's a stuck up ass who used to…" Sherlock sighed, knowing John would know eventually. But that look of curiosity and concern coming from John's face wasn't helping. Then Sherlock nodded, knowing he had to say it, "Moran used to sell me cocaine, or any other drug that I wanted to get my fingers into," he admitted and John's denim blue eyes widened.

"Then why run? What happened that you're, I daresay, scared of?" he prodded and Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"I was his best customer, and sometimes he bugs me. But there was last time. It was year's ago. but," he shivered, "I don't want that to happen again, not ever," he shook his head and John's brows furrowed in even more concern, but also heartache.

"Sherlock?" he soothed and Sherlock took a deep breath, releasing it and hoping his voice wouldn't be shaking as he continued.

"It's just…" Sherlock put his head in his hands, but his voice was steady as he said, "the last time he bugged me, he was drunk and he's a very violent drunk, as most are. But… he was," _what's the word?_ "Grabby. And the stupid bastard thought it would be funny to p-push me…"

And instantly John replied, "It's okay, Sherlock, you don't have to tell me. You don't ever have to tell me, I was just curious," his voice and hand soothed as he rubbed at the small of Sherlock's back, trying to tell him to calm down.

"No, I have to tell you," he whispered. Sherlock swallowed, trying to surpass that disgusting _feeling_ at what had happened, "His hands were down my pants before I knew what was happening, and he was touching me. Obviously, I got pissed," he paused, "and… Well, I- I elbowed him in the face kicked him I have no idea where, and… ran," he admitted, and it was definitely hard to admit that he ran away from something.

John was pissed, definitely angry at everything that's been happening lately and now this, but he hid it as best he could so that he could comfort the boy sitting at his side. "At least he didn't hurt you physically. Usually things like that happen and then…" he didn't let himself finish. "But why didn't you call someone, the police maybe?" John asked as Sherlock shrugged.

"I didn't think it was needed, as long as he didn't bother me again. But then…" and then there were voices downstairs and they looked to each other in unison, confused.

They listened in as best as they could, but all they could hear was someone crying, and John's mum comforting said crying person. Sherlock nodded towards the door, as in, 'Let's go see, and be quiet about it,' and they crept from John's room to the top of the stairs peering curiously into the living room below.

They were right, John's mum was holding this woman who was sobbing into her chest, mumbling something about her son being dead, "He's gone… Dead…". At first, Sherlock thought it would have been Victor's mum, but not when he looked at her. She was someone unknown and suddenly a man emerged from the kitchen, putting a hand to her back, in between her shoulder blades, massaging, and looked to Mrs. Watson with a face of yearning and sadness.

John whispered into Sherlock's ear, "Who are they?" as quietly as he could, but his mum looked up and frowned sadly at them. John put his hands palm up in front of him and gestured to the people downstairs, as if to ask who they were and what they were doing here. She shook her head and both the boys brought their brows together in confusion.

Then John's mum wasn't looking at them anymore, instead she was looking at, "Jamie," she said softly and Jamie looked up at her. "It'll be alright," she promised and Jamie sniffed, rubbing at her nose and eyes.

"But he's… dead…" Jamie whispered and Mrs. Watson just gave her the most sympathetic look.

"I am sorry," Mrs. Watson soothed and Jamie buried her face once more.

And John heard Sherlock suddenly ghosting his breath in a deathly silent whisper, "Business woman, her son died, and her husband there has no idea what to do. He himself owns a business that earns money. Not much, but they aren't dirt poor. Both parents work, then. And they paid barely any attention to their now dead son. Tragedy," he rolled his eyes. "But I do wonder how he died…" Sherlock pondered to himself and John was shocked.

"Sherlock, is now really the time to be making deductions?" he whispered to the arse beside him and Sherlock shrugged. "Lemme rephrase that, is now really the time to be a heartless dick?" and Sherlock's jaw dropped.

He looked to John and John just rose his brows expectantly as Sherlock rolled his eyes once more and closed his mouth. And instead of retaliating, he marched down the stairs. "Sherlock Holmes," he greeted and John face palmed, _You arrogant fuck…_

"I am curious, how did your son die?" he asked and John ran down the stairs to try to stop him from being an idiot.

"You're Sherlock Holmes? Oh, you're that little detective wanna be, aren't you? Carl spoke of you sometimes. Says you can make brilliant, what was it? 'Deductions'? Whatever those are," the husband scoffed and Sherlock rolled his eyes, yet again.

"Deductions are a string of truths put together to make an assumption that I somehow always get right. Well, not always, but most of the time," Sherlock explained and the man looked dumbfounded. "So tell me, how did he die?" Sherlock asked again.

Jamie suddenly popped up and glared at Sherlock, "What right do you have to ask such a question?" her voice was shaky but loud enough to be heard properly as John put a hand to Sherlock's shoulder, his grip becoming harder as he was about to drag the nuisance back up the stairs.

"I ask, because I am curious and I think I know who did it. Now, I know I don't 'have the right', but I am still asking, and I want an answer," he explained and John gave him the hardest glare. But Sherlock ignored it, wanting to know about the kid.

"Carl was a swimmer. He went to London for a tournament," the father explained and Sherlock nodded for him to go on. "But last night while he was practicing as he always does, he drowned. They're not sure how, but he definitely drowned, and no one was in there with him," the father nodded and Sherlock pressed his fingertips together under his chin.

"Intriguing," he admitted and John finally got to apologizing for his boyfriend's behavior. Although no one questioned when John called Sherlock his boyfriend, the father gave a strange look, then brushed it off. "Does your son have anything that someone might be able to slip poison into or something to that affect?" Sherlock asked suddenly, obviously onto something.

"Well, he suffered from eczema, but I don't under- oh!" and everyone understood. And John finally wasn't the only one surprised at Sherlock's brilliance anymore. "You really are brilliant. Honey, I think we should take this to the police. But wait, you said you think you know who did it?" he asked as Sherlock feared he would.

"Well, I have someone who mysteriously texted me, but all I have is the initial M, so I don't know who _exactly_, but-"

"Damn," the father yelled, stomping at the floor. Then he calmed, realizing, "Well, this can still now be classified as murder instead of an accident, and we can find the culprit, I'm sure. So your words are still a blessing," and Sherlock's deductions had even gotten Jamie to stop crying. Sherlock nodded as they disappeared from the flat, going to the police station. They all assumed so, anyway and Mrs. Watson instantly brought Sherlock into a murderously tight embrace.

"That was amazing, Sherlock. A truly selfless act," she praised and Sherlock shook his head.

"Actually, it was just a distracting puzzle and I wanted the woman to stop sniveling. It was annoying," he explained and when she let go he went to the kitchen. "Do you people have tea in here?" he asked and Mrs. Watson was so stunned at Sherlock's words.

But she didn't say a thing, just followed the two to the kitchen and John was used to Sherlock's attitude about murders, so he thought nothing of it. But Mrs. Watson sat wide eyed at the table and wondered how Sherlock could be so cold. Then again, his previous lover did overdose…

Speaking of which… there was then a knock at the door and a ring of the bell as John stood from the counter he had sat upon beside Sherlock starting to prepare tea, "I'll get it," he said. But when he opened the door, that was a different story.

"Hello, John, is Sherlock here?" he asked and John nodded stiffly. But he just couldn't believe who he was seeing. And instantly Sherlock was behind him. Obviously he had heard his name, and came rushing to John's side, but when he saw the man who was asking about him, he believed that his eyes must have deceived him…

* * *

**Even though I know you guys already know who's at the door, I just had to torture you even more. :-D **


	20. It Never Happened

Twenty: It Never Happened

Victor sat across from Sherlock and beside John, smiling at them as if he hadn't 'died' a little over a week before. "Explain yourself," Mrs. Watson suddenly spoke up. "I'm sure they'll stop staring awkwardly if you just explain what actually happened," Mrs. Watson assured him and Victor nodded, clearing his throat.

"Is that what you two want?" he asked. "An explanation?" and they both gave him a 'No duh…' look. "Well-" he tried to start.

But John cut him off _(Rude little prick),_ "You faked it, didn't you?" John eyed him suspiciously and Victor rolled his eyes, sighing.

"No, it just didn't happen," he explained, hoping they would understand what he meant. No, of course not…

"So, you had someone else fake it," Sherlock was silent as John was making these assumptions. Stupid assumptions, at that.

"No, it never happened! I actually overdosed, but after you two buffoons left, Mary found me wrapped in my mother's arms, and she knew I wasn't actually dead, and she told that to the people one of you two called and instead of just dying, I recovered. Now here I am. Deal with it," he insisted as John nodded and Sherlock pursed his lips in thought.

"And you overdosed, why?" Sherlock finally spoke and asked and Victor shifted awkwardly in his seat as he looked at the table, running his fingers over the patterns of the shiny wood.

"Because…" should he say it? Meh, what the hell… "Because of you two," he admitted, glancing at both of them as their expression changed to a bit of surprise, but John's had sadness and guilt. Sherlock was just a bit baffled. _Why us? What… Oh…_

"Us? What about us?" John asked, his voice a little low, but he was still heard. And as Victor was about to speak, they realized Mrs. Watson had disappeared to leave the three alone in the kitchen. "Where's Mum?" John asked, more to himself, but Sherlock answered.

"Upstairs," he nodded towards the stairs. "Victor," and they looked back to Sherlock, "John asked you a question, I think you should answer," he pressed his fingertips together upon his chin and Victor looked to John, pulling at the leather of his gloves in nervousness. He hadn't thought him confessing that his life wasn't taken would be this emotional…

"I know, okay," he said, because he couldn't say it. He said what he could manage, not looking up, but at his hands and hoping they would leave it alone.

Of course, they didn't, which he knew they wouldn't, but he was blindly hoping. Although, Victor knows John knows what he was talking about, Sherlock was bewildered. _You know, for a genius he can be so thickheaded._ "You know what? Victor?" Sherlock asked.

"God! It's so obvious! I don't why I didn't see it before, you two!" he shouted and realization dawned on Sherlock and his eyes fell to the floor for a moment before coming back up to meet John's. Then both sets of eyes were brought back to Victor as he continued into his spinning emotions that he wished he didn't have.

"You two…" he whispered, sounding like he was on the verge of tears as his hands clenched into fists against the table top. Surely, not going to cry, though. Right? "Sherlock and John, John and Sherlock. Jesus, you even sound perfect together," he was shaking in the seething of his anger, his head down, and his hair flopped over his watering eyes.

John didn't know what to do, and Sherlock was in the same pit. They couldn't comfort him, because they were the cause of the pain. But John wanted so badly to reach over and rub his back or hug him or something. But he couldn't, knowing Victor would probably yell at him, or possibly hit him before accepting it.

John was too shocked to shed tears, as Sherlock was just done caring. If this was what caring did to you, then maybe he really shouldn't do it. Then they heard that one drop that determined their next actions. The drop of a tear against the wood of the table, darkening that spot instantly, and John's hand went to Victor's shoulder as Sherlock sat back in his chair, just observing these two idiots who tried to care about people. It was so boring and stupid. Why care that much if it just hurts you?

Victor shoved the hand away. "Don't touch me. I didn't come here to get touched, physically or emotionally," and he stood, sniffing loudly and rubbing at his rimmed red eyes. "I just wanted you two to know that I was alive so you didn't get freaked out when I come back to school next week. Also, news flash, Mary's moved on," he gave direct eye contact to John for a moment before he stormed out of the flat, the door slamming lightly behind him and John just blinked.

"Mary and Victor, Victor and Mary," Sherlock whispered, trying to see if it fit. Then he said aloud, "John, don't start getting jealous. You have no reason to," as John's features had changed and he was about to rant to Sherlock about how Mary and Victor together is ridiculous. But now he just looked a little troubled.

"John?" Sherlock sat forward to talk more and John just looked into those eyes that he loved so much. John didn't answer, though, he just got up, went to his room and got dressed silently, then was out the door and Sherlock was puzzled, following and not saying anything. Just wondering what John could possibly be doing now.

But they exchanged no words as John pulled Sherlock into a garden looking place a few block from home, and behind was a small forest where John delved into it a good few yards. Then he just shoved Sherlock against a thick tree. "John, what are you doing?" Sherlock decided to question now, as this was strange for John to just randomly do.

"Just… Shut up," he growled and Sherlock was so confused, but John's lips were against his own before he could question further. And John's mouth then travelled to Sherlock's throat, biting and sucking as Sherlock whimpered under his grip.

"John… what-" and he was cut off by John slipping his tongue through Sherlock's teeth and silencing him. _Shut up, Sherlock. Please just let me do this… _

Then, "Just shut up, Sherlock." And Sherlock was just starting to understand as John dropped to his knees and went to working on Sherlock's jeans. They were at his ankles as well as his pants before he could say anything and John just gripped the base of Sherlock's member, "This is mine," he whispered over the head as he was slightly surprised that Sherlock had been half hard just from John pinning him down.

"Yes, John," now he knew what was plaguing John, "all yours, John," he agreed and John grinned, licking over the head once and lightly enough to make Sherlock suck in air, but he didn't make any noise other than that.

That wasn't good enough. John wanted more noise coming from those lips that were also his. He then took Sherlock's head into his mouth, sucking lightly and Sherlock groaned, his head falling forward as he gave up and gripped the back of John's, his fingers threading through the blond's short hair.

Then John decided to take just a bit more, Making Sherlock moan a little louder, his head falling back into the tree with a painful bang, but he couldn't find a fuck to give.

Sherlock was so sensitive and new to these things still, it made it feel so much better than it really should. And John's mouth was just glorious. Wet, hot and on him. It was so easy to get lost and just whimper John's name as the blond sucked a bit harder, then scaled his way back, pulling off a bit and drawing moans as well as groans from Sherlock. But sadly, it wasn't very long before Sherlock felt his eyes drift shut as he could feel the familiar sensation in his stomach.

"John, I-…" he tried, but John stayed, knowing what was happening, and he didn't care. It was his, all of it, Sherlock and his body, _John's_. No one else can do this, not anymore. Only John. That was why when Sherlock came, John took it all, and it didn't taste so bad that he wouldn't do this again, but it wasn't the best thing ever. He milked Sherlock for all the brunette was worth still, wanting all that Sherlock could give, because it was his.

Sherlock just moaned and writhed and whimpered his way through John's touch as all he gave was taken. And then John was doing up his jeans, and he realized what had just happened. John couldn't deny the arousal he started to feel from hearing Sherlock moan. But it was fading quickly as Sherlock tried to regain his balance from the orgasm that took it.

"You really were a virgin, weren't you?" John joked and Sherlock glared at him.

"Shut up. Besides, you reacted the same way when I first took you, and I said nothing. Although, the noises you were making were well worth being silent," he smiled cockily and John punched him in the arm lightly.

"Shut it, Holmes," he demanded and Sherlock just winked.

"So, I'm guessing that was because of what Victor said. Correct?" Sherlock guessed.

"You never guess," John teased.

Sherlock sent him another glare. But softened to say, "I want you to know, John, that just because with you, doesn't mean I am going to cheat on you. I promise," and he never makes a promise without keeping it.

John nodded, "I know," he sighed. "It's just, I guess I was just jealous that something that once was mine is now someone else's. and now I feel really bad because I think Victor feels the same," he explained. "But why wouldn't he feel the same? And then there's Mary. Only God knows what's going on in that girl's head," he chuckled and Sherlock shrugged.

"I think I might like you getting jealous, then," he grinned and John rolled his eyes.

"Come on, we should head back. I dunno if Mum would exactly appreciate me running off with my boyfriend. Especially since it's you," he held out his hand for Sherlock to take.

He smiled, lacing their fingers together as they walked back, "Although, I hope you know, what she thinks we did.. we did," and John laughed.

"Yeah, that will be awkward, won't it?" and Sherlock nodded. But then he shrugged it away.

Instead he said, "I think I like the fact that she knows. It means that she knows, but it doesn't mean we're going to stop," and John smirked at that.

"No, it doesn't…"

* * *

**Trust me, I have no idea why that happened, either. But it did...**


	21. Him

Twenty-One: … Him

Sherlock woke first, gripping onto John as if his lover wasn't going to be there when he woke up. Sherlock squeezed and John woke with a start, pulling from Sherlock's arms, as he thought someone was trying to possibly hurt him. But then he saw, "Sherlock," he sighed, calming and bringing Sherlock back into an embrace. "Sherlock, sweetheart, what is it?" He brushed the sweaty curls from Sherlock's face and placed a kiss to his temple.

"John," Sherlock just held tighter, and it sounded like he was about to cry, but he didn't. He couldn't let himself get carried away in that. _Stupid emotions that happen while you're sleeping. They never seem to let up, do they?_ "John, don't leave," he breathed and instantly regretted sounding desperate as John sighed, this time in understanding, and concern for what he understood.

"Sherlock, I promise, I'm not going anywhere," John soothed. "Come on, Sherlock, can't we not do this? It's the last day of the weekend before we have to go back to school. Why don't we go for a walk again?" he chuckled, "Maybe through that garden, too," he suggested.

"Don't tempt me," Sherlock warned. Then John felt kisses on his neck, up to his jaw and over the corner of his mouth. John made the last one by catching Sherlock's lips on his own. "But, a walk does sound nice, then I need to get home, haven't been home in a while," he realized.

"I know," John said sadly, almost pouting at the fact that Sherlock had to leave.

"You could just come with me, you know. Home, I mean. You could stay the night," the brunette grinned and John smiled.

"You sure your parents would really want me around you around them?" John pondered, knowing Sherlock knew what he was suggesting.

"Nonsense," Sherlock said, "besides, they're almost never home in the first place. It'd only be Mycroft," Sherlock assured, grinning because he knew exactly where John was going with that.

"Ugh, Mycroft. Only ever met him once, and I still think he's a dickhead," John scoffed and Sherlock chuckled.

"Well, he is an older brother. Older brothers aren't exactly supposed to like the boyfriend," and John rolled his eyes.

"Fine, I'll ask my mum and then if she says I can I'll get some stuff together and I'll go home with you," he agreed and Sherlock smiled, kissing him just once again before dragging both of them out of John's bed…

o0o

"Oh yeah, nice day to go hiking, Sherlock," John grumbled, but following as Sherlock pulled him along.

Sherlock proceeded to take him through that forest, but they were going deeper this time, hopefully to find the other side. "Well, if it starts raining, we'll go home, or well not exactly home for you but-"

"Shut up, just shut it and let's go. Arguing with you is like talking to a brick wall," and Sherlock rolled his eyes, linking their fingers in between one another and dragging John further. With the darker weather, the forest was small, but it still seemed to be gloomier than before.

Although, before… yeah, they never really got a good look into it in the first place, but still. This looked one of those scenes from the horror movies. Ha! John's the stupid blond and Sherlock's the brunette that gets them into a load of trouble. Oddly enough, John wouldn't mind being spooked out of the trees. It'd make for something exciting instead of just terrifying.

Besides, Sherlock wouldn't be scared as much as he would be curious, so even if John almost pissed himself in fear, Sherlock would calm him, then make him go further. And just as they were both thinking of something exciting that could happen, they heard a crack, like something had been stepped on a twig. And they knew it wasn't them, as it was all leaves over here.

But it seemed as though that whoever or whatever it was, didn't let up in its path and it was walking towards them. Sherlock stood up straight and pulled John to his side as John had started shaking a bit. "Honestly, John?" Sherlock mumbled.

"Shut up, Sherlock," John whispered back, standing taller, but still scared of what was to come. But it was also exhilarating to think that they could get into some trouble. And from behind the tree in front of them, a little to the left, but still in front of them, emerged a boy.

"Quite clever, aren't you?" he approached and circled a bit around Sherlock and came back out peeking over John's shoulder, "and the pet, of course, you geniuses always have to have that," he patted John's shoulder and Sherlock had a weird sense of knowing this boy from somewhere, but he didn't know _exactly_ where.

He was just about to call on his mind palace to indentify his face or voice, but then this boy said, "I'm Jim. Jim Moriarty," and it clicked. What Sherlock was onto before was gone, and now he knew who this was.

"You belong to the police, Jim," Sherlock said, gripping John's hand harder and pulling him closer.

"Well, they're too stupid to guess it was me," and John was still confused. But he was sure Sherlock would fill him in soon enough. "Besides, it really wasn't fair. He laughed at me," he faked a pout but Sherlock knew that in those brown eyes, there was nothing but joy. "So I stopped him. It was simple and a little too easy," he shrugged, shoving his hands in his pockets. And everything clicked in John's head as well and now he felt really stupid he hadn't realized it earlier.

"I would imagine so. You must be extremely bored by now," Sherlock said, almost feeling bad for him. Sherlock hated being bored, it always made him cranky and restless. But this, this situation was definitely not boring. This was everything but boring.

"Oh, I really am. I'm still waiting for your move, Sherlock," Jim complained and Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"And I'm working on it. Patience is a virtue," he nodded and Jim eyed him.

"Right, well, I wish I could stay and chat, but I have things to be doing, bye boys. I hope to be seeing you again soon," he sang and walked away, back out of where Sherlock had dragged John in.

"Why would he wear a suit in the forest?" John pondered.

"Why would he wear a suit at all?" Sherlock sneered in disgust. "They're not exactly the most comfortable of things," he told John. "Anyway, are we going deeper, or going home?"

"Oh, what, it's up to me now?" John asked.

"Yes."

"Right," he nodded and smirked, "on we go then," he gestured to the trees and Sherlock grinned as John pulled him further. And sadly, it didn't take long to reach the other side. There was a field that folded out behind the wooded area, and then the road out there behind all the grass.

"Well, this is boring," Sherlock sighed.

John chuckled, "We can make it not so boring," and Sherlock gave him a glance from the side, only moving his eyes and one of his brows to quirk it.

"No," he decided. "That can wait," he smirked and John shrugged. "Actually, I have somewhere I'd like to go before we go home," he said suddenly.

"What? Where?" John questioned, furrowing his brows in confusion and looking to Sherlock's features to try to read anything.

But he was remarkably and regrettably a bit too good at hiding any kind of emotion he had as he said, "A place where I can confirm a thought of mine," and John nodded, knowing it was officially somewhere neither of them would want to be.

"Alright. And I'm guessing you want to go now?" John queried and Sherlock nodded.

"Yes," he drug John back through the smallest of forests and back to the sidewalk, eventually reaching John's flat and practically threw him into Shezza as he grabbed her keys from his pocket. "It's been a while, hasn't it, Shezza?" Sherlock asked as he rounded to the driver's side and John rolled his eyes.

"I'm pretty sure you didn't drag me here so you could talk to Shezza," he pointed to Sherlock's attention and Sherlock shrugged.

"Car like this is worth talking to," he smirked and jumped over the door, as he always does.

"Do you ever actually use the door?" John asked and Sherlock smiled.

"Sometimes," he nodded and shoved the key into the ignition, twisting and reveling in the sound of his baby purring under him again. John shook his head, rolling his eyes and Sherlock leaned into his personal space, whispering, "Don't worry, I don't love her as much as I love you," and with a kiss to the cheek, he pulled away from John's flat.

John was actually shocked that Sherlock had said that to him. All Sherlock did was look to the blushing boy and smirked, chuckling as they took off and all John could hear was his voice, repeating those words over and over. You _love me? When did that happen? I mean, I know I love you, too, but…_

John looked to Sherlock in bewilderment, and then smiled. _I love you, too. _Then he was jolted from his thoughts as Sherlock asked, "Have you ever had a problem with the upstairs neighbors?"

"No," John shook his head, "we don't have neighbors, not yet at least," and all that was given as a reply was a small, 'Huh,' and they were gone…

o0o

"It's just a store, Sherlock," John noticed and was extremely confused now.

"That's what they want you to think," he took John's hand and lead him inside to the counter. The man eyed John, but welcomed Sherlock. "I need Moran," Sherlock said simply and the clerk looked around the empty store, confirming it's emptiness, gesturing for them to follow.

He then took them to someplace in the back of this little store, and knocked on a door. "It's Sherlock Holmes," he said and there was a swear that could be heard behind said door and out walked a man. The same one from…

"Sherlock, why-"

"Sh," he squeezed John's hand and Moran closed the door behind himself. He was tall, looked like he could hurt you if he tried, but he's not the type to just go about beating the shit out of people. He hair was cut shorter than Sherlock's only by a little, and you could tell he had wavy almost full on curls in his brown hair.

But it was going greying a bit, John noticed as he patted Sherlock's shoulder. "I thought you said you weren't coming back for more. _Ever_," he claimed, almost sounding like he was mocking Sherlock.

"I didn't come back for more," Sherlock shook his head slowly and looked the man straight in the eye, "I came to confirm something," he nodded and Moran eyed him. Sherlock was so tall, he was almost the same height as Moran, so he could easily hold his ground under that glare.

"Information, then?" he asked and Sherlock nodded.

"Yes…"

* * *

**Not as good as I wanted, but I need to move on with this. I still hope you liked it, though. :-)**


	22. A distraction Wanted But Really Not Need

Twenty-Two: A Distraction Wanted But Really Not Needed

"Information? About what?" Moran asked as Sherlock squared his shoulders in an attempt to be taller and John's fingers were permanently stuck in between Sherlock's. A death grip that wasn't ever going to be released, and that was okay.

"Who, not what," Sherlock started. "Anyway, it's about this James Moriarty character," and Moran's eyes widened, "though he goes by Jim," and Moran seemed to relax when he heard the second part. John wasn't the only one who noticed those reactions, either.

"Jim? He's simply a nuisance. Not really a threat," Moran dismissed with a wave of his hand.

"So," Sherlock glared, "killing a student isn't a threat? Because he gloated all about it when he texted me," Sherlock pointed out and Moran shrugged.

"He's still not as much of a threat as… Never mind," he shook his head, as he decided he wouldn't speak of that man to these two, almost especially these two. Not here, anyway. But he has work to finish, so he decided he just won't say anything at all.

"Nope, you opened the can, spill the beans," this time it was John who insisted.

"No," Moran refused with a slight shake of his head. "You can take this one up with your brother," he said to Sherlock with a shooing motion of his hand and Sherlock stiffened even more, not that John thought that was possible.

"Fine, coward. I hope I never have to see you again," and he tugged John out of the front door, dragging him to Shezza and John turned Sherlock to face him as he pressed the taller's arse into the creamy blue car's door.

"Did we really just do that?" John asked, pressing his groin to Sherlock's.

"How do you mean?" Sherlock looked down to John in curiosity.

"Did we really just ask a shady man," Sherlock was about to argue. "I don't care if you know him," John pointed a finger to Sherlock's nose, "did we really just ask him about Jim?!" his hands flying the air and coming back down again as he was almost shouting, but not quite.

"Yes. Yes, we did. Problem?" Sherlock asked with his brows raised in that sexy type of smolder he does when he's trying to be cocky. John rose a brow as if there was a problem, and he was about to yell, but it quivered, as did the rest of him and he melted as he pressed all of himself to Sherlock. Including his lips, and Sherlock was so confused at this boy's emotions, but he quickly accepted, clutching at John's arse and trying to get him closer. Come on, it was obvious that they were both getting aroused…

Groans escaped as they desperately tried to get closer, sharing, heat, air, and now saliva in an attempt to further their proximity to the max. And then Sherlock had an idea. Probably not the most brilliant of ones, but an idea nonetheless. "John, I'm going to lift you and your gonna put your knees on Shezza's door, see if it works? I'll catch if you fall, I promise," he declared and John sighed, nodding.

And soon he was lifted and now he had his knees pressed to the car's door and his groin pressed to Sherlock's abdomen as he leaned down for even more kisses. Sherlock accepted, keeping a hold on John with his hands, his gripping fingertips almost bruising John's waist. Even if it did, neither of them cared as they were definitely closer than they were getting before.

John hated being short, and this was why. But Sherlock being so deliciously tall didn't help, either. Then again, John loved being the short one for once. He'd always wondered what it felt like, and he guessed now Sherlock had a taste of it as well, as John was temporarily taller than him. But sometimes it was good to be dominated, it shows that even though you're strong, you can let someone else do it sometimes.

And that thought made John smiled. Because he didn't think of one of them as submissive, and other dominant. It was simply who wanted what and who took it first. If they tried dominating one another, they'd probably die of exhaustion before one submits completely to the other.

But that's good. John had always took the meaning of submissive to be weak, because that was how the 'submissive' partner always looked: weak and never being able to have the ability to take over. And then John was bringing Sherlock to sit on the car door as well under his hips, and it made things a bit more difficult. But not when Sherlock tipped them over the edge, both landing in the seat underneath their 'fall'.

John was obviously on top, but Sherlock soon fixed that, squishing John to the leather and pressing him between that and his own body, pushing his tongue into John's mouth. The taste of one another filled the two as their flavors tangled, and neither could tell which was theirs and which wasn't anymore. The Sherlock actually realized what was about to happen.. Oh, but not here.

"John," Sherlock gasped, pulling away. "John. Not here," he shook his head, both to say no, and to shake away the intoxicated feeling he always got from snogging John like that.

"Why not," John whined, using his grip on Sherlock's hip to press their groins together and they both moaned but Sherlock had his wits about him. And even if it was only a bit, he could still think about this rationally.

"No, John. Just wait, a few minutes, okay? I know a place- ah! Stop that!" John was grabbing at Sherlock, squeezing his arse and bringing them together several times before he let up.

"Okay," he panted. "Hurry it up, I want you so much…" he whined and Sherlock nodded, grabbing the keys from his pocket and they didn't bother with seat belts as he took about two minutes to find that parking spot he had found a few months back when he had been out driving at night and he needed sleep, but he definitely hadn't made it home that night.

Anyway, back to the aching and whining John in the passenger seat…

* * *

**I know, it's short, but in my defense, I did just write and post two chapters. Plus, I want the next chapter to be really good, and to do that, I need detail, so it'll be kinda longer... So.. I can be forgiven? Yes? No? Maybe? Okay...**


	23. Sh

Twenty- Three: Sh…

"Can I trust you not to scream?" Sherlock teased as he pulled John over his lap and the blond instantly situated himself over Sherlock's arousal, his own pushing into Sherlock's abdomen.

"Depends, can you not be so good at having sex?" John teased, licking at his ear, then nibbling on his earlobe and the space a bit beneath it on his neck, making him sigh deeply in pleasure.

"Seriously, though. Just because we're hidden in a few trees doesn't mean we can't be heard," Sherlock said seriously through the huff of breath.

"I know," John smirked, giving Sherlock's neck a final kiss and moving back to his cheek, then his lips. John was soft and gentle when he first pressed his lips to Sherlock's, but during doing so, he ground his hips into Sherlock's and the brunette gasped, biting at John's bottom lip. John loved this. He was definitely going to be the one being penetrated and yet he was still dominating the situation.

Sherlock let go of John's lips, only to smell the air and realize, "John," he was panting, but he got it out, "it's going to rain, and I don't want-" and he was cut off by John's lips on his, understanding but wanting the kissing to continue.

"Okay, but I want to get wet. Can't we just put the top up and maybe move outside? Where you can press me into Shezza's cold frame…" he asked. "I really d would like that," he admitted and Sherlock groaned, rutting against John again, making him let a small noise go as well.

"I'm not getting my clothes wet just because you like the rain," Sherlock argued and John shook his head.

"You won't need to," John smirked. Then he moved from Sherlock's lap, his breath shaky as they had brushed together that last time and he really hadn't wanted to move. But he did, "Go on. I won't wait forever," he was getting a bit annoyed with waiting.

Sherlock rose a brow, digging the keys from his jacket's pocket and putting the top up on Shezza. "Yes, you would," he contradicted.

"Yeah, I probably would," John shrugged, knowing he would, but it was still frustrating. "Now, about not getting your clothes wet," he grinned. Sherlock smiled, stripping everything from his top half as John did the same. John opened the door as he pulled Sherlock in for another heated kiss and eventually pulled them both out. He was then working on Sherlock's belt as he was smushed to Shezza, somewhere in between the hood and the door.

They both leaned against the car, their shoes and socks gone, and soon Sherlock's trousers joined them in the car. But he had none of this and John's trousers and pants were gone as he was pinned to Shezza, beside the open door and Sherlock gave him hot and wet kisses all over. His neck, his cheek, his lips, his shoulder and part of his chest. John smirked, slipping his tongue through Sherlock's lips and teeth, tasting the taller of them as Sherlock had come back to his lips.

And Sherlock's pants were gone, kicked off and through the car door as it was slammed shut afterwards. With John being slammed into it, of course. That's when Sherlock pushed them together, their hardening members rubbing against one another's and a few taps of rain could be heard against the roof of Shezza, then it just starting pouring, soaking them immediately as they were completely hard by this point.

But they were pressed so tightly together, moaning and gasping for air as rain practically blinded them, that the water barely slipped in between them, only soaking their front halves when Sherlock turned John round. But John protested, "No! I wanna see your face, Sherlock. _Please_," he begged.

"Fine," Sherlock sighed, letting John turn again and Sherlock pushed them together once more, as his fingers travelled to the small of John's back. Now he was glad John had wanted to look at him as his palm landed there and his fingers travelled further, pushing in between John's cheeks and lightly teasing at his entrance. He could barely hear John's gasp through the drum of the rain on the roof behind them, but it was there.

John pulled back from leaning his forehead on Sherlock's shoulder and observed the face he had complained about not being able to see, and he was glad he had complained. Sherlock was just as beautiful with his curls plastered to his cheeks with rainwater, his cheeks flushed despite the cold of the rain and the water dripping over his face and chest, begging to be licked away. The rain was cold as it assaulted their bodies with drops of itself, but they warmed one another as John's fingers slipped through Sherlock's curls, and pulling them, making his head drop back and John did what he had desired.

His tongue hit Sherlock's skin and Sherlock moaned, letting the blond take over for just a moment as his tongue was almost everywhere. His neck, his chest, over both of his nipple, nipping at each one, making them stand out against the water. His grip on Sherlock's hair faltered and Sherlock looked to John, but John's fingers were still buried in those luscious and now completely soaked curls.

He tugged a bit when Sherlock's fingers teased him again and Sherlock looked to John's features, watching intently as the pleasure and annoyance from being teased and not just taken washed over him. And of course, the rain made John's hair look a bit longer, and it covered his brows as it's almost platinum blond colour changed to a dark and rich gold instead. It was strangely attractive on John and Sherlock loved it.

Which was why he moved it to the side of John's forehead and John leaned into this touch against his heavy breathing and Sherlock smirked, pushing the first finger through and John moaned, almost forgetting how to breathe. The rain worked surprisingly well as a substitute for lubricant, and Sherlock took advantage, spreading John's legs a bit and shoving another digit in without a warning before brushing over John's sweetest spot.

But he was such a tease, only brushing over and moving back to John's walls, stroking and slightly scissoring to get John used to this. "Sher..lock," John struggled, gripping Sherlock's shoulders as his fingertips scraped at Sherlock's skin, but Sherlock just didn't care as he leaned against John.

"You like the rain?" and John nodded. "Then we should do this every time it rains," he smiled and John nodded, smiling a bit as well as Sherlock's fingers pulled out and John throbbed with the shameful need he so desperately had. He blushed as he wanted to demand it.

And he tried, "Sherlock, just-" but he was cut off by another gasp when Sherlock brushed over John's entrance.

"Just what?" he teased, rubbing his erection at John and his leg spread a bit wider in response.

"Just- Fuck!" as he could feel the hot dripping of Sherlock already oozing precum. Was he really that arousing to Sherlock? Apparently so…

"Sure," he grinned, lifting John's toes from the dirt of the ground, grabbing him by his arse and pinning him to the car door. John squeaked a bit from being lifted from his feet, but he settled and wrapped himself around Sherlock, holding on as if he was to die if he fell. Sherlock finally slipped in, slightly spreading John's arse apart as John's moan got louder inch by inch. Sherlock was intriguingly silent.

He wasn't sure what noise to let out, though, so he didn't let out any, biting his lip as he was finally fully seated. John choked on a gasp as Sherlock's head rubbed across the one spot, making it like the rain that fell. Silent until it hit, then came the loudest of noises. And Sherlock pushed up further, literally balls deep and John's eyes rolled back in his head as they shut tightly and John _screamed_. "Oh God!"

"Not… quite," Sherlock breathed through a chuckle and his lover was too lost to understand as he started moving, every small movement making him brush back over John's prostate, sending harsh tingles up and down his spine as he moaned with every thrust Sherlock gave. But those moans weren't enough for Sherlock anymore.

Just before Sherlock had decided to get a bit rough, John had decided to roll his hips to meet Sherlock with every thrust, so it was almost as if he was asking for it. Because now they had both decided and Sherlock thrust up again, hard and John threw his head back, shouting Sherlock's name through the drumming rain that masked little. That was definitely satisfying, as he had also clenched around Sherlock, making the brunette moan loudly.

"Sh-Sherlock-k," John stuttered through breathing heavier than he had ever before. "Do it again," he panted into Sherlock's neck, biting down temporarily as Sherlock grinned. "Harder…." He demanded and Sherlock obliged.

He just didn't hold back, pounding into John, making him moan louder with how much harder Sherlock made it. "Louder," Sherlock demanded. "I need to hear my name come from those lips again..," he licked at John's neck, "and again…" He smirked and thrust up again, harder and harder, getting faster and John bit down again.

But the hope of holding back left as he couldn't and he was yelling Sherlock's name into the rain that had never really let up. Luckily, no one heard them, or, well, it seemed as though that was so. The point is, they weren't disturbed as John tried silencing himself with Sherlock's mouth, plunging his tongue as deep as he could and Sherlock accepted, pushing back on the hot and wet muscle as he just kept with fucking John as hard as he wanted, which was honestly as hard as he could.

John was moaning into Sherlock, the vibrations making him so much closer. He wondered if John would like how warm cum feels.. inside him. And there wasn't really more time left to wonder as he was getting so much closer, and when he was almost there, he could feel John was feeling it as well and he moved away from John's lips. He then got closer, pressing John's aching member in between the two and kept the fucking consistent as he bit down on John's neck, right where it met his shoulder.

Sherlock almost drew blood, and both of them knew it would be a bruise by tomorrow as Sherlock was blinded by white swirling and wrecking his vision. John's vision was already shot as his eyes were screwed shut and cum spilled from John onto their stomachs and chests. Sherlock's thrusts became lighter and he too was spilling over. John had to admit, it felt strange having ejaculate hot and sticky, shooting from Sherlock into him, but it felt so good as each thrust didn't stop hitting his prostate. And it was _Sherlock_, so did it really matter? Not one fucking bit.

Sherlock gave one last effort of a thrust with a grunt of final release and he sadly fell limp from John. But he was still pressed to the boy as the rain's song became apparent again. John chuckled lightly, "I've always dreamt of kissing someone in the rain, but not like that."

Sherlock let out a low chuckle himself, "No?"

"Never." John smirked as Sherlock gave him another kiss, and it was almost chaste as John accepted, and they broke apart. "Okay," John nodded in confirmation and finality. "Didn't we have somewhere to be?" he asked Sherlock, who had also just realized he should have been questioning his brother by now.

Guess it could wait, as they were both too tired now to do anything but go home and do practically nothing. Sherlock held back a laugh at that. For once, he didn't want to do anything but relax with his lover. "Going home, now. I really don't feel like harassing my brother at the moment, plus, he'll know we've been shagging, so… can we just not?" he smiled.

John nodded and laughed a bit, "Okay," he agreed. "Going to your place still?" John asked out of curiosity and Sherlock nodded.

"Why not? We need a shower, too," he pointed out. "And mine's bigger."

John nodded, "I suppose we do need to get cleaned up…"

* * *

**Sadly, I only have at least two more chapters of this left, and now I hope you're wondering how the hell am I going to end it all? Sh, it's a secret. ;-D But I promise to make the last few amazing. :-) Thanks to everyone who reviewed, by the way. Even if I didn't message you, I still loved reading what you said, and it warmed my heart, I promise. But, this was definitely really long, even for a smut. XD I hope you liked it, and I hope to see more people commenting and loving it as well! :-D I love you all! **


	24. Surprisingly Enough

Twenty-Four: Surprisingly Enough

Mary awoke cuddled into the man she was currently holding very dearly in her slumber and now her awakening. She knew she didn't deserve Victor, but neither did Sherlock.

Then again, Sherlock didn't deserve John, either, but that stupid blond idiot decided he would fall in love with the freak, so what was she to do but accept it and move on? Which was exactly what she had done.

She accepted that she'll never fill John's heart again. But at least he did love her at some point, yeah? Besides, she has this beautiful man looking at her sleepily right now. Those lovely green and yellow coloured eyes that somehow enhanced the enthralling interest of his gaze and made her heart dance.

Honestly, how could she not lean in closer and give him a good morning kiss? It was soft, chaste, but never meaningless. It meant so much more than either if them could explain, but they always completely understood, and that made it all that much better.

After all, lovers can be understood, but almost never explained. 'Why do you like him?' 'I have no idea, but I do.' And that's the way the cookie deliciously crumbles. That's the way the milk will always be spilled. And you can't clean it up any other way than to simply stop crying. And that's just what Mary had done! She quit sniveling and cleaned up her spilled milk.

It definitely sounded as if she was using Victor, because she was. But not in the way everyone would want to think. She used him to get passed heartbreak, yes. But she had feelings for him as well instead of him just being a rebound.

She didn't even believe in that shit. Though her blissful thoughts and the taste of Victor, being that of sweet strawberries, was ended by a knock upon the door and a short ring to the doorbell.

"Can she never find a better time to interrupt something? She could always come over when I'm doing homework, but no," Mary muttered as she pulled away from Victor and stumbled down the stairs, still full of the need to stay in bed for just a few more moments.

Victor follows, stumbling after her, his eyes still in the same condition Mary's held, "Wait. You know who's at the door without even answering?" he questions in a slight slur.

Mary nodded, smiling in the sarcastic enthusiasm, "Oh yeah," as if he should know, too. And she yanked the door open to reveal who she knew was there, and who could irritate her no more than she already does...

* * *

Getting past Mycroft was easy enough. Getting to bed was simple, and falling asleep was just as effortless. And the two actually slept through the night without any blips. Of course, in the morning Mycroft will probably still know what happened, but at least then they won't be as tired, and Sherlock and John will be able to deal with it instead of just looking embarrassed.

Sherlock knew how much John hated being embarrassed, so he'll probably do all of the talking, but for now, sleep was what had their quickly fading attention...

o0o

Waking up wasn't so easy, though. John rolled over onto Sherlock, "Get up, git," he said. Sherlock mumbled something incoherent and rolled over, pulling the duvet over his curls and waiting for sleep to try to take over again. John sighed heavily, "Stubborn reject."

Sherlock jumped up, shoving the covers from his top half and pouncing John, "What did you just call me?" he heaved.

John grinned. "A stubborn reject," he replied slyly, knowing it would get Sherlock out of bed. Sherlock's eyes narrowed while he stared at John. But all John could do was laugh. You should have seen the mess of curls that took over his head. It was priceless.

"What are you laughing at?! If you don't stop I'll have to-" and he was cut off by a peck to the lips from John.

"You'll have to what, sweetheart? I can't read your mind," John smiled and Sherlock scoffed, instantly throwing John's wrists from his grip and sitting on the edge of the bed. He crossed his slim arms over his chest as John just chuckled. "Got you up, didn't I?" And he joined Sherlock on the edge, kicking his feet under the bed.

"Shut up John," Sherlock ordered.

"What crawled up your a-"

"Sh!" Sherlock hushed violently with a finger to his lips, his head dipping to the side slightly as John heard it, too. The soft sound of footsteps. Well, more like the sliding of feet on the carpet in the hall, but still. "Oh! Fantastic!" Sherlock said sarcastically as his mum poked her head through the door.

"Yoo hoo! Hi boys! Breakfast is downstairs, if you're so inclined to eat it," she coughed suggestively at Sherlock and John giggled.

John liked her already. Her face was adorned in aging wrinkles and her hair was completely grey by this point, but she seemed lovely and John now knew he wasn't the only one to worry about Sherlock's health lately. Or at all, honestly. The idiotic git almost never eats. Although with John scolding him about it, he's been eating at least two meals a day, even if they are light.

She grinned at John, winked at Sherlock and was closing the door behind her before Sherlock tackled John to the covers again. He growled, straddling John's hips lightly and placing kisses along his throat and part of his neck. "Sherlock, what are you doing?" John had to wonder.

"Do you ever silence yourself?" Sherlock queried angrily and John shrugged.

"Surely you don't mind, Sherlock?" John gave Sherlock a pouting face and Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"You know that's an entirely different scenario," he defended, sitting up and in his lover's lap as John huffed.

"Apparently, you're 'entirely different' in the mornings," and at that, Sherlock raised a brow to the smiling John in his bed. Said John sat up, using the heels of his palms to do so. "Don't give me that look, you're like a giant kitty, always grumpy when you wake up," and Sherlock raised both brows in turn. John sighed, "Never mind," and he slid from the covers, standing in front of Sherlock, who was now back at the edge.

He stretched, throwing his arms in the air and bending over backwards halfway to try to shake himself from the intoxication of sleep the rest of the way. And Sherlock seized his waist in his hands, bringing John closer and kissing the small of his back.

"I'd rather stay up here and eat you," Sherlock complained and John froze at the warmth of the breath on his skin.

"I think that's an adventure for some other time, yeah? You're mum's-" Sherlock held him tighter.

"Again with never learning to shut your mouth," he snapped. "But I suppose you're right. The noises you make are deliciously mine and mine to hear alone. So," he stood, wrapping his arms around John's shoulders and pressing himself to the older boy as he continued, "Breakfast sounds good, yeah?" He looks to John's face and grinned at the blush shining as a red apple does on a tree. It was gorgeous and all for him.

"Yes," John cleared his throat and sighed, "breakfast sounds good," he nodded.

o0o

Breakfast was... well, silent. Deadly silent. Mycroft smirked a bit when he deduced the bit about John and Sherlock and last night against the car in the rain, but that was about it for any sort of interaction between them all.

It was afterwards, that made John a little nervous. He didn't know what the eldest Holmes would have to say to Sherlock's burning questions. Or if they would just give up and simply squabble as they do sometimes. And their parents left, so they could say anything they like.

Obviously it was Mycroft who started the conversation, "You've questions, brother dear. Please feel free to ask," he smiled. And it would have been warm, if he wasn't a Holmes boy. I swear, all of them have an iced dagger glare that could kill a man where he stands.

The first question from the younger Holmes, "You are aware of the character who names himself Jim Moriarty?"

The answer from the eldest, "I am. Your point in asking of him?" Mycroft asks in return to Sherlock's first and a little silly question.

"Then you must also be aware that he did murder that Carl Powers kid?" And Mycroft simply nodded as John pursed his lips at the tension full of sibling rivalry. "And your hoity toity response to this was?" Sherlock pressed further and John's hand landed on his thigh under the table.

Mycroft dismissed the small insult. "If you're asking if he was dealt with, I can assure you he isn't anywhere that he would be able to seriously harm another again," he nodded and Sherlock grinned wickedly.

John's surprised by this answer. But Sherlock simply said, "Good," he purred. _See?! Bug grumpy kitty cat... _John thought and was glad Sherlock couldn't read his mind.

But then John was unexpectedly gripped by the collar of his shirt and made to stand by Sherlock. "Sherlock?"

"Let's get dressed, John. I'm taking you for a drive. I'm _extremely _bored..."

* * *

"What do you want, Mother?" Mary asks as Victor gawks at the woman displayed before him. She was completely void of make up, dressed in sweats and her hair was a bit unruly with the waves that surrounded her shoulders. But she was breathtakingly beautiful. Now he knew where Mary received the features.

"Oh, Ag- Mary!" she corrected herself instantly. "Why didn't you tell me your boyfriend was over?! I shouldn't be looking like this in front of-"

"Shut up this instant and get in the flat, you're obviously here for a heart to heart, am I wrong?" Mary asked, irritated that she was swept out of bed for this. "And how do you know? He could have just been a friend?" Mary suggested.

"You've clearly just woken up, and a simple friend wouldn't be so smokin' hot," she winked at Victor and he blushed lightly in response. Mary just rolls her eyes, pulling her mum through the door and to the kitchen so they could all sit down.

"So you're not as stupid as one would think," Mary insults while making coffee and her mother scoffs, but takes a seat beside Victor, eyeing him suspiciously.

"Have you two had sex yet? And if so, were you safe about it?" Everiliena suddenly wonders and Mary squeaks.

"Mum! Seriously?!" And Victor chuckled, blushed again, but found amusement in Mary's mother's interest all of the sudden. Mary then settled, asking instead, "Honestly, though," and both he's turned her way. "Why are you here?"

"To make you a deal," she replied simply and it was Victor's turn to eye her.

"Of what sort?" Mary asked, sitting down at the table for the few minutes they had until the coffee pot would be able to spit out the tasty black liquid for tired mornings.

"Well. You know how you're selling..." Mary nodded, whirling her hand in the air lazily for her mother to just get it over with. "You stop that and I pay you an allowance once a month to help instead," she smiled and Mary's eyes instantly widened. Victor stared in the disbeleif that mirrored his lover's.

"How much, exactly?" Mary asked, her voice a little higher and she would sound like a child.

"Double what you make at the store, and of course I'll help any other financial problems you might run into," she answered.

"But... why?"

"Because," Everiliena sighed, "despite what you may think of me, I do care about and love you. What you're doing is too dangerous for you to be even thinking about. Plus, I have more money than I know what to do with," she admitted.

Mary nodded, "Right..."

* * *

**That was a bit longer than expected... But oh well. More for you lovely readers! :-) By the way, if you're wondering, there probably is more smut in the last chapter. But it's a happy ending, so I hope you'll like it. Until next and sadly the last time, readers. :-( :-) **


	25. Why Can't People Just Think?

**Author's Warning: Decided there would be smut... Just thought you should know. Enjoy the end. :-) **

* * *

Twenty-Five: Why Can't People Just Think?

"I- I... I need a moment," Mary stuttered as she swiped Victor's hand from the table, making him stand from the chair he had taken a liking to and drug him as well as herself to her bedroom. "I don't know if this is a good idea," she admits as she left the door ajar and Victor frowned.

"If I was you, I'd do it. But alas, I am not," he smirked and she smacked his chest in a serious sort of jest.

"I'm serious, you brat!" Victor rubbed at himself as she glared fire and ice at him through those usually lovely sea green eyes. Now they were just looking expectantly at him and he had no idea what to say.

Victor could easily persuade her to do it. But he didn't want her to feel like this was for him. And with that thought, he knew exactly what to say to her. "Mary, this time, it isn't about us, or me. It's you. This is your decision and even if you make the wrong choice, I'll still be here. I can't tell you what to do just as much as you cannot rely on me for an answer to this," and she swore that her heartbeat fluttered at that.

"How can you sound so intelligent now and not all the time?" Mary queried and Victor smirked.

"If I sounded like this all the time, it would ruin my preferred appearance," he replied slyly. Mary rolled her eyes and Victor grinned.

"Anyway," Mary inhaled deeply, putting a hand to Victor's chest. "I don't like depending on everyone else. That's the only real reason I don't want to do this. I would gladly take it in a blink of an eye, but," she bit her lip and Victor chuckled, moving closer as he placed his hands on her hips.

"You really are stubborn, aren't you? It's okay to depend on someone else and it's okay to ask for help if need be. But what _isn't _okay is taking advantage of that kindness around you," and she smiled up at him.

"I love you," and he squishes her to his body as he replied, saying he loved her so much more. She blushed and he placed a kiss to the pink before Mary remembered that her mother was still in the kitchen and waiting for an answer.

Mary sighed and nodded, "Okay. It's okay? Alright..." she did this sometimes. Muttering to herself to make sure something was what she wanted. Like she did when she had saved Victor. She mumbled to herself for hours over that one.

Although, in the end, she supposed it was well worth it. Mary glanced at Victor from under her lashes, and she took that back. It was definitely worth it. No question. And suddenly there wasn't any question, she finally had an answer for her mother...

* * *

At first, it was simply and a bit aimlessly, might I add, that Sherlock drove. A silence that gave the air a sweet sense about it, no tension, just the silence of two people in thought. John was simply wondering how both Holmes knew about this and Mycroft got rid of Jim so effortlessly and John was none the wiser.

It made him a little angry that Sherlock kept this from him, but he was so much more relieved than anything. They obviously weren't done with Fate's decisions, but at least for now, they could live in a little bit of peace. Speaking of bliss and peace and such. What was Sherlock doing this morning?

He was grumpy, as always. But he had kissed John very intriguingly on the back like that and it made the blond wonder if he could get away with trying something new on Sherlock. Plus, John hadn't topped in a while, and- great... Leave it to John's imagination to do this.

But all he had to do was tease and both of them would be in this state. Andoh dodge know every part of Sherlock that could unravel him, no matter what the circumstances may set themselves up to be. And that's just what he did. Teasing at Sherlock's curls until he huffed and John could hear it perfectly, as Sherlock had the top down still from last night. _Mmm, last night._

Sherlock only had one glance and he knew entirely what John was doing. Playing with that nape curl and making Sherlock shiver didn't help the brunet decide it was something else, either. He sighed and John smirked at the fact that he knew Sherlock was already giving in. Good.

John didn't even pay attention to Sherlock parking. All he knew was that his seatbelt was off and he could finally have his way with the taller boy. John could tell that Sherlock was practically reading his mind when he too slipped the belt from the buckle and John instantly yanked at the lapels of his leather beauty, harshly pulling Sherlock over himself as they were both laid in the seats.

Sherlock was annoyed at first, wanting to just think for a while. But when John gave him a proper snog, lips, tongue that sweet taste of morning tea mixed in with the moan that filled both of them, he was definitely distracted and thinking was now impossible. Unless, of course, that meant thinking about all the things he was going to do to the elder boy.

Oh, but Sherlock was very mistaken when it came to this time round. He may be on top, but John was absolutely in control. Sherlock couldn't help but to groan at that thought. He hadn't been completely and utterly taken over by his John in a while and it felt so good as his jacket slid from his shoulders and to the soon to be decorated floor.

"John," Sherlock whispered as John's teeth roamed the skin of his neck, finding a good spot that could easily be hidden, but he also knew Sherlock liked this spot. Which was why he nipped, licked and sucked until a new mark formed there. The teen moaned, letting his boyfriend do as he pleased.

There go the shoes, whipped to the floor as well as socks that were peeled off and thrown. Sherlock instantly flopped onto John again, wanting his kisses and just everything. John obliged, pressing kisses to his lips, his cheeks and eventually his neck again. John quickly left a little bite mark before returning to removing clothing. There was still too much to be seen of it.

And there went Sherlock's shirt, John's followed, both being pulled off by the blond and Sherlock just got harder thinking now, of all the things John would do to him. Just as John had gotten around to fumbling with Sherlock's jeans, the taller of the two horny teens decided he would press himself to the shorter but older and John's hands got caught in he middle.

Sherlock gulped down gasps as John had started palming him since there was nothing else he could do like this. But Sherlock didn't give a damn, and pressed hot open mouthed kisses over John's own lips and he accpeted, pushing his tongue to meet Sherlock's. They loved that they were almost always thinking the same thing, it was overwhelmingly adorable.

John's taste was on Sherlock's tongue again and he enjoyed it a bit more than he should have, but he didn't care. All that mattered was just the fact that this was happening, again and it would never stop. For as long as they may live, this will happen as often as they want, and nothing will stop it. That was what made Sherlock room hard. Just the idea of John being eternally his and vice versa.

Sherlock finally relented, letting John's hands free and instead straddling his hips, messing about with John's belt as a hopeless distraction until his jeans were mercilessly ripped from his body and they joined the mess on the floor.

Sherlock smirked at that before he felt fingers gliding against his own and making the open the belt and soon John's own jeans were gone from his hips. Once that was taken care of, John gripped Sherlock's ass as tight as he wished, which was pretty hard and shoved Sherlock's crotch against his own.

Even through their pants the heat could be felt and it wasn't enough. But John had different plans anyway. "Stay," he commanded and suddenly slipped out from under Sherlock. He was about to complain when he felt John's weight over his back instead.

The elder teen's fingers pushed under the waistband of the younger's pants, and those, too joined the mess of disarray scattered about the floor. John's pants landed on the steering wheel and he hadn't meant to do that, but okay. Besides, his focus was elsewhere. As in, on the boy still bent over and presenting his beautifully curved arse that John just had to take advantage of.

Although, the biggest surprise for Sherlock was when it wasn't John's fingers that was pressed to his hole. Nope, John's tongue was there instead, making Sherlock gasp a moan that made John press harder.

John's tongue was nothing but wet, hot, and drooling uncontrollably as he pushed past the tight ring of muscle and Sherlock inhaled sharply, choking out John's name. But it didn't stay. Not at all, no. He moved away from the begging entrance and licked at Sherlock's shaft underneath as he was pleased by a groan that added more shaky breathing from his partner.

John mouthed kisses over Sherlock's balls, instead decking not to dawdle, licking from there back to his pleading hole. It was just so pleasing to have the big 'bad boy' writhing and wriggling under his touch. Which he did when John didn't let up this time, slightly spreading Sherlock's cheeks with his palms and slowly sliding his tongue as far as he could get it.

And the sounds from Sherlock's throat! At first it was a stifled cry, then onto whimpering curses and John's name in there somewhere, and finally just gasps every few breaths that assured the blond he was making it feel better than expected. He lapped at the inner walls of his wiggling lover and was rewarded by Sherlock clenching around his tongue and John moaned, knowing it would benefit both of them.

John was a little embarrassed to be lightly dripping precum, but when he went to touch Sherlock, he found that his brunet lover wasn't just dripping, he was leaking and instantly it spilled over John's fingers. He decided then, that this was enough before they cum on the spot abecause Sherlock hadn't had a proper fucking yet and John was going to deliver.

So his tongue left Sherlock, and his hands for the moment, as he slid back under the idiot. Sherlock was surprised, but so was John, and for completely different reasons. One, John being able to do what he had just done. Two being that Sherlock had a dribble of drool that had escaped and John had no idea that he was doing that well. "John, please..."

"Sh," it was short and cut off a bit by the blond's selfish needs as he brought the brunet's lips to his own. Tongues slipped across one another as John brought his aching cock to Sherlock's leaking one, and all he had to do was smear himself in Sherlock's juices and he was completely wet. Why and how Sherlock hadn't cum yet was beyond John. But he found this position to be stupid and he wanted a better one.

So he pushed Sherlock and himself up, taking Sherlock's wrists and pinning them to the back of the seat, moving his knees under Sherlock's thighs and thrusting into the boy doing so. Sherlock gave a shout of John's name once more as the short blond whispered Sherlock's to the taller's ear.

And somehow, Sherlock rode past all of the small pains, moving himself up a bit, then giving up and impaling himself further, hitting a spark inside that made him yell out in a wordless desperation. John immediately understood, threading his fingers through Sherlock's with one hand and the other clutched the genius's ass, making him jump and John thrust up to keep inside.

Sherlock's head dropped back when John did that again, this time hitting Sherlock's prostate with accidental expertise and he panted out little groans and moans. It was all he could manage, or so he thought. Until John came closer, rubbing Sherlock's cock in between their flushed, warm, and now sweating bodies and bucking his lips hard enough to hit Sherlock's sweetest spot and it felt bruising but electrifying.

Shivers rand up and down Sherlock's spine as he screamed swears, letting them tumble and he clenched tightly around John. And the blond lover just kept doing that same thing over and over, satisfying both of their needs without even using his hands. It was intoxicating, and Sherlock thought it wouldn't end. Obviously it did at some point, but still, one cold hope. And what an ending...

John spilled over first! Spurting violently into Sherlock as he bit down hard on his genius's shoulder, making the brunet roll his head forward and whisper hotly in the boy's ear, "I love you..." as he too fell off the edge completely.

When Sherlock toppled over, it felt as if the world was doing loop de loops and his vision was blurred for a second, definitely. John was in the same rut, though. Gasping down air as he blinked and tried to get past what he thought my have been the best orgasm yet. "I love you, Sherlock," he breathed and Sherlock felt tears coming. He didn't understand why, but they were.

John sniffled, rubbing at his own eyes. But it was hopeless, both of their light tears spilling over and them giggling. John pulled from Sherlock, laughing in the seat beside him and wondering how this was even possible.

"Guess what they say is true, then," Sherlock nodded, wiping away tears as John looked to him, confused.

"This would be, Sherlock?" John inquired.

Sherlock chucked breathlessly, but regained balance of his own body's functions as he said, "A love that can make you laugh and cry may not be exactly stable, but it's a love that's meant to be kept," he blushed and John smiled.

"I can agree to that," he gave a reply and leaned over again, catching Sherlock's lips with his own. This is a love to keep...

* * *

**Oh my wow! This is the end. Just.. wow. I wanted to thank you all who stuck with me through this, and for giving me loving reviews and just be lovely af. Thank! :-) **


End file.
